


A Convoluted, Shitty Christmas Lesson (or Whatever)

by Autumn_Ignited, SailUncharted



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, And lots more sex, Because this is a Hallmark movie, Boss/Employee Relationship, Christmas Fluff, Hallmark Christmas AU, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, Kolivan's first name is Kris, M/M, Past Keith/Lotor (Voltron), Poor Lance (Voltron), Rich Keith (Voltron), Sharing a Bed, Sick Lance (Voltron), Someone has to be Santa, blatant use of christmas tropes, boss!Keith, but don't forget the sex, but gay, secretary!Lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21878881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_Ignited/pseuds/Autumn_Ignited, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailUncharted/pseuds/SailUncharted
Summary: Keith, trampled by the corporate drudgery of Business, wants nothing to do with Christmas. His boss wants him to learn the meaning of the season if he’s going to take over the company compassionately. In an effort to teach him to get along with people, Kolivan hires him an assistant - some guy named Lance who insists they went to school together. Lance remembers him as unfriendly, Keith doesn’t remember him at all. Lance, of course, LOVES Christmas, so when Keith draws his name for the office secret Santa, he has no idea what to do. It doesn’t help that Lance turns out to be charming and good at his job and really, really hot.Or, can we shove every Hallmark Trope into one fic?
Relationships: Allura/Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 161
Kudos: 436
Collections: Just some pretty nice fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: Welcome to our self-indulgent x-mas romp! The idea was Gay Hallmark Christmas but also Smut and I think we did it, down to the confusing capitalist message they usually have. For this fic Keith is mostly written by Autumn and Lance is mostly written by me. If you were here for our Halloween fic, we uh...got better, which means it got more intertwined. It's not 100% that way always, but for the most part that's how it is :3
> 
> Autumn: We make no excuses for the genericness of the company, the type of work they do, or the overwhelming blandness of the background characters. It’s a Hallmark movie after all. Keith does Business at Corporation, Inc. in Big City. 
> 
> For other updates and klance reblogs  
Follow us on Twitter! [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

❄️❄️❄️

Keith sat in his office, coffee mug almost empty. It was his third cup and he was seriously contemplating a fourth. He looked down at the half-dried ring of liquid and mentally groaned. There was no way he’d get through all the emails in his inbox without a refill, and that was just item number two on his extensive to-do list. It was like a direct correlation: the closer to Christmas, the more work seemed to pile up, the more crucial coffee became. Standing up, he grabbed his mug to refill it with the cheap, offensive swill they brewed in the break room. The first thing he would do once he took over for Kolivan, Keith decided, would be upping the budget for coffee. 

As per usual, all of his colleagues ignored him as he made his way to the other end of the office. Also as per usual, no one was inside. Everyone usually took their breaks around the same time so they could chat, and Keith made good and sure his breaks didn’t line up. Unless Pidge decided to come out of her cave to hang out. 

Great, the pot was empty. Who was the lazy asshole who took the last cup and didn’t fill-- 

“Uh, is this the…no. Excuse me, do you know where Mr. Kolivan’s office is?” 

Keith turned, raising an eyebrow. He looked the man up and down, wholly unimpressed with his cheap tie and the nervous shifting of his lean body. 

“The CEO? Next to mine, down the hall.” He frowned. “Who are you?” 

Blue eyes squinted at him and then lit up. “Oh! Sorry.” The man straightened and smiled, holding out his hand as he walked forward. “The name’s Lance. You’re Keith, right?” 

Keith’s confusion morphed into mild annoyance, but he took the offered hand. “Kogane, yes.” 

Lance scrunched his nose and pointed at himself. "It’s Lance. You know,  _ Lance _ ." 

“I heard you.” Keith scoffed and abandoned his cup in the sink, giving up on the idea of more coffee if it meant getting away from socializing further. “Kolivan is down this hall, make a left. There’s a suite with his name on the door. Good to meet you,” he lied as he dodged around Lance to leave the break room. 

"Thanks, it was good seeing you," Lance called after him. As the door closed, Keith thought he heard him mumble,  _ ass.  _

_ Idiot,  _ Keith mentally shot back. 

Back at his desk, he was disappointed to find that the number of emails had practically doubled while he was gone. Now he was coffee-less and more tired than before with twice as much work, fan-fucking-tastic. 

Keith mindlessly worked thorough his emails and had them down to a blessed twenty left when he heard the overhead chime signaling a company-wide announcement. Keith groaned. He was  _ so close.  _ Resigned, he pushed away from his desk and made his way back down the hallway. 

At this point in the season, the wall-high windows he passed were fogging over with the beginnings of frost. He spared a glance at the heavy grey clouds gathering in what he could see of the square cut-outs of sky backlighting the cityscape. Looked like snow. 

Marvelous. Snow meant accidents, accidents meant traffic, traffic meant no getting back to his apartment for a few extra hours. 

Pidge sidled up next to him, eyes squinting under the bright fluorescent lights. The IT office kept their room dark mostly because they could, which meant Pidge always looked like a goblin emerging from her cave whenever there were meetings. They shared a look before turning their attention to the front. 

Kolivan's secretary stood with a table of sweets on one side and that annoying new guy on the other. Slowly, people emerged from offices and popped their heads up from cubicles. 

"Can I have everyone's attention! We have a new employee." She made a grand gesture to Lance. "Please join me in welcoming Lance Fuentes to Blade Inc." 

A modest round of applause scattered through the office. 

"Now, everyone come get cupcakes to celebrate." 

Heads that had disappeared popped back up at the mention of free sweets. Keith watched a line form and a few people go up to the new guy and greet him. That was it? He’d left his desk for three whole sentences?

Fuentes. It sounded familiar, but maybe he’d heard it in a movie or something. There was a nudge to his shoulder to alert him to Pidge’s presence, but they were both looking forward, watching Lance smile and shake hands. 

“Some people are so congenial,” Pidge observed lightly. “It’s nauseating.” 

“You’re telling me,” Keith agreed. “Who is this guy? Why’d we hire him?” 

"Oh him?" Pidge clapped him on the shoulder. "That's your new assistant. I'm getting a dessert muffin, want one?" she said, walking away. 

“What the hell is a dessert m- excuse me, my  _ what  _ now?” Keith demanded, striding forward and snagging Pidge by the collar. “Explain.  _ Now.”  _

Pidge slapped off his hand. "If you must know, a dessert muffin is the opposite of a breakfast muffin. I mean really what's the difference between cupcakes and muffins any--" 

“I will destroy you and everything you hold dear if you don’t tell me right this goddamn second why that moron is standing in this room.” 

Keith felt eyes boring into him and looked up to see Lance frozen in a half-wave. His smile was growing bigger but it didn't reach his eyes. Hand coming down, he turned and walked away. 

"Oh, the Kogane Coldfront strikes again. Do you think he's turning in his resignation right now?" Pidge pulled out her phone, tapping the spreadsheet she kept on the home screen. "He would make lucky number twenty-five." 

“Well, good, then!” Keith nearly threw up his hands in a tantrum. “Whose idea was this? I don’t need an assistant. More importantly, I don’t  _ want  _ an assistant!” 

"Kolivan." Pidge sighed, rolling her eyes as she put away her phone. "And this is your last chance." Pidge stood on her tippy toes and puffed out her chest. "Keith needs to learn how to take care of our employees. This is his last chance or I'm going to have to pass him up for Lotor when I retire," she said in her best impression of their boss. 

Keith sighed and rubbed his temples. Between the lack of sleep, lack of coffee to combat the lack of sleep, and now this… 

“...What is he even supposed to do for me?” Keith asked sullenly. 

Pidge counted off on her fingers. "Get you coffee, schedule your appointments, answer your phone, make sure you're not a dick to new hires." She cringed, sucking in air through her teeth. "Looks like you definitely need help on that last one." 

“I’m not a dick! Why does everyone think I’m a dick?” 

Pidge gestured wildly in the direction Lance fled. "Vice President calls you a moron on your first day? Kinda dickish, Keith." 

A few people stuck their heads up to see what the commotion was about. 

“Keep your voice down,” Keith grumbled, noting with a combination of interest and frustration how the eyes that glanced at him quickly glanced away. “I didn’t call him anything. That...that was the last guy.”

It wasn’t that Keith was unaware he had a reputation for being...well, businesslike over-friendly. It was just - well, for him, that was what work was  _ for _ . You went to work to work. No need to make it personal. Things just got sticky if you put your personal feelings into the mix. 

...Okay so maybe he was a dick. But, like, a tiny one. A small, unsatisfying dick. Like, Classical Greek statue dick. 

“Fine,” he finally muttered. “Tell someone to send him in at three.” 

“Hmm, sounds like a good job for your assistant. Oh wait.” Pidge shot Keith a shit-eating grin. “I gotta set up his computer anyway, but this is the last favor I’m doing for you. Kolivan had strict orders for me not to interfere.” 

“What in the actual fuck is going on around here,” Keith asked in Conspiracy, but as usual, Pidge avoided answering by giving him a cheeky grin and a shrug. 

❄️❄️❄️

A tentative knock sounded on Keith’s door, startling him from his paperwork. “Go away.” 

The door opened and a growingly familiar head of hair peeked through. “Pidge told me you wanted to meet at three; did we need to reschedule?” 

Oh, right. This. 

Keith sighed and stood, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. “No, that’s correct. Have a seat.” 

Lance hesitated, looking behind him. Seemingly making a decision, he walked in and shut the door. He sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs someone else had picked out for Keith and placed his bag near his feet. Keith watched Lance’s leg bounce as he looked anywhere but at him. 

“Well, first of all,” Keith began with Herculean effort. “Let me apologize for the brusque introduction. I...was not aware I was getting an assistant.” 

Lance's leg paused. "So…you're not firing me?" 

“What? No.” Keith made a face as the ever-persistent pressure behind eyes increased. “I’m just...frankly not sure what to do with you. I handle my own business. What were you hired to do?” 

"Help you," Lance said simply. A light went off in his eyes. "Actually..." He pulled out a packet of papers from his pocket and unfolded them to hand to Keith. "This is the job description. I printed it out as a cheat sheet for today." 

Keith accepted it and scanned the list. Coffee - why was coffee always number one? He could get his own damn coffee thank you - appointments, phone calls, scheduling, dry cleaners? What was he, a child? 

...Well. In all fairness, he hated making appointments and rescheduling things, so that was a start anyway. But how did he know this Fuentes guy was even particularly organized? 

He tossed the list on his desk and sat back, studying Lance. “What brought you here, Mr. Fuentes? Just needed a job, or this company specifically?” 

Lance became all smiles, sitting up and squaring his shoulders. “Blade Inc. was my first choice after graduating. It’s been my dream to work here since the deal with Altea. That was a masterpiece.” He ran a hand through his hair and grinned up at Keith. “When I found out that you were the one that headed that deal, I had to apply for the position right away. I’m hoping to learn a lot from you.” 

Opening his mouth to retort that flattery wouldn’t endear him to Keith, he shut it when he thought back to Pidge. And Kolivan. And being a dick. “That’s...kind of you to say. Um. Where did you go to school?” 

Making conversation, right? That was what people did to be friendly, right? 

Lance squinted at him. “You’re kidding, right?” 

“Uh.” Keith blinked. “No?” 

“I went to U of G.” His smile faltered but managed to stay in place. “Class of ‘19.” 

“Oh.” Keith blinked again, peering at Lance a little more closely. “Same as me. What was your major?” 

“What was...” Lance blinked at him as if waiting for something. “I was in like, all your classes. You know, Keith and Lance? Neck and neck? We both graduated magna cum laude. I sat right next to you!” 

Keith thought back to the dark, sleep-deprived days of his undergrad. Most everything had been a blur as he did his best to get out, get done, get started with reinventing his life. He hadn’t exactly socialized. 

After a moment, his eyes widened in realization. “I do remember you. You fell asleep in class and always hit on the TAs.” 

“And still only lost to you by a decimal point." Lance sat back and looked Keith up and down. "You got fit." 

Keith snorted. “Well, anything was bound to help when all I was eating was a pack of ramen a day.” 

"I'd say." Lance suddenly sat up, back straight. "So, do I pass?" 

“This wasn’t an interview.” Keith ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “You’ve already been hired. I was just…” What was he doing, exactly? Introducing himself? Pretending to make nice so they wouldn’t promote his sleazy fucking ex instead of him? “Making sure we’re on the same page. Which is to say...I have no idea what you’ve been hired to do or why it was determined I needed an assistant without anyone ever checking with  _ me  _ on that little detail. But I’ve been informed that the desk outside is for you, so.” 

“In that case...” Lance took a folder from his bag and handed it to Keith. “That’s my contact information and your itinerary for tomorrow. I’ll get everything set up on the network today. Pidge already invited me to all your calendars, so you don’t have to worry about that, but you should add me to your contacts as well. I also did some digging for your meeting in the morning. Please look it over tonight.” He stood up, hooking his bag over his shoulder. “I’m off at four, so if you need me, text is the fastest.” 

Keith stared at the folder. Efficient. Businesslike. Okay, he could work with this. Invasive? No, probably not for people who were not Keith. “...Yeah. Thanks.” He glanced up and gave a curt nod. “Lance.” 

"Mr. Kogane." Lance opened the door and paused. "Have a good night." The door closed behind him. 

❄️❄️❄️

The next morning probably could have been worse but not by much. 

It was snowing, for one. Keith hated snow. It was cold, and dangerous, and it made traffic horrific. Just as he’d predicted.

Second, his first meeting had been canceled. He was going to have to rearrange everything when he got to the office. 

Third, he was out of coffee. 

By the time he was in the elevator on the way up to his floor, his whole body was as tense and stormy as the clouds outside the window. 

“Good morning, Mr. Kogane,” Lance said as Keith walked up to his office. 

_ Right. _ With how bad the day started, Keith forgot he had an assistant that would talk to him in the morning. Make that number four. 

Lance held out a large cup with a smile that was too bright for such a dismal day. “The first snow of the year. Isn’t it nice and cozy?” 

“Just like the traffic was this morning,” Keith deadpanned, looking at the cup Lance held out. “Coffee?” 

“Yes, from Galaxy Cafe.” Lance wiggled the cup. 

Keith took it like he was expecting it to bite him. “I’m-“ 

“Lactose intolerant. Don’t worry, it’s soy with two shots of peppermint and extra sugar.” 

Keith accepted the cup reluctantly. Taking a cautious sip, he swallowed the moan that was building in his throat. “How did you know?” he asked suspiciously. 

Lance shrugged instead of answering. “The meeting this morning was canceled. I rearranged your Google calendar, so you have about an hour break before things get hectic.” 

Keith frowned. Rearranged his Google calendar? What the hell? Where was everything now, if that was true? Who was coming in and when? Pursing his lips, he retreated into his office and spent the next five minutes looking over his new schedule. 

To his everlasting frustration...it was extremely well done. Organized. Efficient. The only problem Keith could find with the way Lance had done things was that it hadn’t been Keith himself doing the work. 

After another ten minutes of annoyed sitting and sipping, Keith stuck his head out of his office. 

“This looks...good. Thank you.” 

“Of course. You don’t have to thank me, though. I’m your assistant; it’s my job. Oh yeah.” Lance snapped his fingers. “Pidge wants to know if you’ll have time for lunch today.” 

Keith gave a smug little smirk. “You tell me, I guess. Do I have time for lunch today?” 

“If I move the 1:30 meeting to 2:00, you should be able to have lunch at the Yellow Lion and be back in time despite traffic.” Lance typed on his computer. “And the conference room is open that whole time. Do you want me to? The meeting is with Lotor.” 

“For future reference? Please do everything in your power to inconvenience Lotor. So, yes. But preferably not until the last available second.” 

Saluting, Lance smirked. “Aye aye, boss. Once you get back from lunch I’ll have your schedule updated.” 

❄️❄️❄️

Lance pulled up to the office, Mariah blasting through his speakers. Thanksgiving was over, so it was officially Christmas in his book. 6 AM, bright and early like always. He rubbed his eyes. Last night had been awful. He’d barely slept and he’d been tempted to call in today. 

With a yawn, he shut off his car, cutting Mariah short. Lance took over for her. There’d been no snow since that one day and this morning even felt a little warm. He hoped it would get cold enough to snow again on Christmas. 

The doors were all locked this early after a holiday, but Lance had a keycard. Being the VP’s assistant had its perks. “ _ Don't care about the presents un-der-neath the Christmas treeeeee _ ,” he nodded and sang at the front desk guard, who shook his head with a smile, and rode the elevator up to the office, two coffees in hand. 

Ding. 

“ _ I just want you for my own, more than you could ever knooooow _ .” Like he thought, the office was completely empty. Not even the lights were on. Lance danced his way to his desk as his singing became braver. “ _ Make my wish COME TRUUEE, all I want for Christmaaaaaaaas is you! _ ” 

“Lance?” 

"Wah!" The coffee sloshed precariously in the cups, some liquid splashing out and burning his hands as he spun. "Fuck. Keith, you scared the crap out of me." 

Keith looked like he hadn’t slept in the last millennium. His hair was limp and pulled back messily with a regular, office-supply rubber band. His eyes were smudged with the bruises of exhaustion and his shirt was ruffled, the collar undone and sleeves rolled up. He blinked at Lance like he was coming out of a coma. 

“What are you doing here?” Keith slurred at him, rubbing at one eye with the heel of his palm like a sleepy toddler. 

"Me? This is when I always get here. What are you doing here?" Lance had been looking forward to an hour of solitude. Unfortunately, work apparently wanted to make up for time lost during vacation. 

Fishing a few fast food napkins from the pockets of his dress pants, Keith offered them to Lance for the spilled coffee, while trying not to look like he was eyeing one of them to see if the word “soy” might indicate it was for him. “But you don’t clock in for another, what, hour? Two hours? Why do you get here so early?” 

Holding out a coffee, Lance waited for Keith to take it so he could grab the napkins. "How do you think your schedule is always finished before you come in?" He wiped the coffee off his hands and checked his sweater for splash damage. It was safe, thank goodness. His Abuela had knitted this one. 

Keith took his coffee and held it close, about to take a sip when he considered what Lance had said. He looked like he was thinking hard, frowning at Lance’s stapler like it had personally offended him before turning his gaze to Lance, expression softer but still unreadable. 

“I, uh,” he said. “Hadn’t...Um. That’s...very dedicated. Of you.” 

"It's my job." Lance set his coffee down. "More importantly, you look like you spent the night here. Is that…a rubber band?" He touched the tangled knot that was slipping down Keith's hair. 

Keith winced but didn’t seem to have the wherewithal to pull away. “That report had to go out by the 28th,” he said by way of explanation. “Someone had to do it.” 

“You’ve been here since Thursday?!” No wonder his boss looked like a mess and his pockets were full of McDonald’s napkins. “Nevermind. You need to go home and clean up before anyone gets here.” 

“I can’t,” Keith said, trying to put on his business tone of voice like a jacket. “I have clothes at the dry cleaners down the street and I can wash up in the bathroom, but I have that shareholders’ meeting at eight, and if I don’t go, it will have to be Lotor, and I refuse.” Half of his coffee was gone after that admission, even though it clearly burned on the way down. 

Lance bounced on his toes as he considered Keith. On one hand, there was definitely time for Keith to go home if he rushed. On the other hand, Keith still looked like he was half asleep and wouldn’t make it to the elevator by nine. He sighed. Sometimes he wished he got overtime pay. “Fine. I’ll get your suit as soon as they open, but this.” Lance gestured to all of Keith. “Is going to take more than an office sink to fix. Do you even have a brush here?” 

“Here? Or at all…?” Keith shook his head. “Lance, this isn’t your problem. Coffee, and if you wouldn’t mind getting my suit, is plenty. You’re not even on the clock. I got myself into this, I can get myself out.” 

“Without a brush?” This time, Lance tugged on the knot. “Unless your plan is to cut your hair with some office scissors, you need my help.” Lance held up his finger as Keith tried to protest. “Not only do I have a brush, but I also have hair ties. Check and mate.” 

Peering at Lance’s short hair, Keith raised an eyebrow. “Uh...why?” 

Lance winked. “Sisters.” He turned to run down the stairs; there was no time for an elevator. “Do something about that ketchup on your face. I’ll meet you in the bathroom.” He ran off before Keith could reply. 

It didn’t take long to find the hairbrush, which had hair ties wrapped around the handle. He checked his glovebox and sure enough, his emergency toiletry bag was still there. Grabbing that too, he ran back to the office and to the bathroom as fast as he could. 

With no one there, Keith was bent shirtless over the sink, scrubbing generic green hand soap into his hair like shampoo. 

Pure horror froze Lance in his tracks. “Stop! Whatareyoudoing?!” his voice echoed off the bathroom tiles, making it twice as loud. 

Startled, Keith jerked up and hit his head on the faucet. Blinking one eye at Lance, he mumbled, “Washing…? My hair?” 

Lance stared numbly at Keith. His eyes wandered past the disgusting hand soap that Keith thought passed for shampoo to see a strangled rubber band curled around itself and covered in torn hair. Rushing forward he picked up the rubber band. “Your poor hair. If I knew you were this bad I would’ve made you shave your head.” 

The grunt Keith gave as he rinsed the soap out was uninterested. When he tossed his hair back and scrubbed his hands through the wet strands to comb it, he looked up through a thick mess of dark curls. “It’s so damn thick, I have plenty to spare. It’s fine.” 

_ You’re fine, _ Lance’s mind supplied. His eyes followed the water droplets as they dripped down Keith’s bare chest. It was the first time Lance realized Keith was shirtless, and oooh boy, those gym hours paid off. Shaking the thought out of his head, he slammed his bag on the counter. “It’s a good thing I had this. Head down. I’m taking over.” 

Obediently, Keith bent over the sink, looking over his shoulder at Lance. “What exactly are you going to do to me?” 

“Save your poor, abused hair.” Lance pulled out a travel size bottle of shampoo as he tried not to let his mind think about his boss bent over and wet. This was Keith. Scrawny, tired, always one step ahead of him  _ Keith _ . It didn’t matter that he’d grown out of one of those three. Lance’s stomach twisted as he squeezed a dollop onto his hand and stepped alongside his boss. “Head down,” he said, voice rougher than he intended. Clearing his throat he added, “Close your eyes so soap doesn’t get in them.” 

“Geez,” Keith mumbled, “Sure know how to treat a guy.” 

Lance was not going to reply to that. Nope, nuh-uh. He lathered the shampoo and hesitated. How many HR codes was he about to break? Praying that no one was as crazy as them and came in early after a holiday, he made a tentative swipe through Keith’s hair. For being treated like shit, it was  _ soft. _ Lance gently massaged the shampoo through the silky strands, making sure to wash out all the hand soap. He used his thumbs to press into Keith’s neck and rub small circles there. Sheesh, it was like iron. 

Keith let out a long, low groan. 

Working his way up, Lance pressed his fingers into Keith’s scalp and ran them through the long hair. He could feel Keith melting under him and suddenly Lance was very thankful for Keith’s eyes being closed.  _ Get yourself together, Lance.  _

“Pretty sure,” Keith said, trying not to get shampoo in his mouth, “you should quit and be a masseuse.” 

Lance’s fingers paused as his face burned. He coughed. “That should do it. I’m going to rinse you now. Let me know if it’s too hot.” He turned on the tap and cupped his hand to guide the water over Keith’s head. The suds washed away, leaving shining hair behind. Lance couldn’t stop running his hands through it. Hopefully, Keith didn’t realize what he was up to. After a few more moments he reluctantly turned off the faucet. “All done.” He pulled some paper towels from the holder and used them to catch the water as Keith stood up. 

Rubbing them into his hair, Keith turned to Lance with a wry little smile. “Better? Do I meet your lofty standards now, Mr. Fuentes?” 

“Hardly.” Lance turned, pressing close to the counter as he fiddled with his bag. Pulling out the spray conditioner, he slid it over to Keith along with some deodorant. “Spray that in your hair and put that on.” He pointed to each in turn. “You stink like fast food. Also this.” Lance found the mouthwash and handed it over too. “You really should’ve gone home.” 

Keith’s nose wrinkled as he looked at the bottle. “What even is this. My hair is clean.” It wasn’t a genuine question, really - more like a complaint - but he did as he was told. “And hey, I can do you one better on that.” Keith pulled a travel toothbrush and toothpaste from a little plastic tube in his pocket. “Generally I only ever spend one night at the office, so I do have this for emergencies.” 

“How often do you spend the night here?” Safer conversation. Safer distance. Lance breathed, willing his body to return to normal before he had to leave the safety of the counter. 

“Uh.” Keith looked caught, like he didn’t have an answer that was satisfactory for that, so he apparently decided to stall instead by brushing his teeth. The minute or so that provided allowed him to come up with, “Only when there’s still work that needs to be done before a deadline. Though sometimes I don’t even realize I’ve done it.”    
Straightening, Keith peered at himself in the mirror, tugging at the bags under his right eye with a sigh. “This meeting could make or break the next few years for us. That report had to be ready, holiday or not. I can sleep when I’m dead.” 

That was…sad. Work shouldn’t be the only thing in a person’s life. “What about your family? I’m sure they missed you on Thanksgiving.” 

Keith’s hand dropped to his side, and when he turned to look at Lance, his face was expressionless. “I don’t have family. That’s why it’s better for it to be me. So you all can spend it uninterrupted with yours.” It wasn’t sharp or accusatory. Just matter-of-fact, like the rest of Keith. “What time is it?” 

The matter-of-fact-ness made it worse, somehow. As if Keith never expected this reality to change. Lance’s arms twiched to give him a hug, but that was beyond inappropriate and he’d already crossed too many lines today. Checking his phone he said, “Almost seven. I’ll leave soon to pick up your suit. Keep your hair down so it dries while I’m gone and I’ll style it when I get back.” Lance packed up all his belongings and put them back into their bag. “Why don’t you hide in your office till then?” 

The familiar ding of the elevator announced the arrival of a very prompt employee. Lance whipped his head toward the sound. Keith was very much still shirtless and dripping. He looked up at Keith with wide-eyed panic. There was no way he could get caught with his boss half-naked and leave with his job. 

“Sorry,” Lance said, before grabbing the toiletry bag and Keith’s wrist. He pulled Keith into the first stall and closed the door, trying to listen for the intruder. 

Keith’s thick eyebrows made him look especially perturbed when they furrowed. “What the hell are you do-” he was cut off by Lance clapping a hand over his mouth. Keith followed Lance's eyes down his naked torso and realization seemed to dawn just as the bathroom door opened. 

Once Keith knew to be quiet, Lance took his hand back and pressed into the door. Whoever this dude was, he was whistling. It was shrill and pitchy, but it was decidedly “Jingle Bell Rock.” It was made even less appealing by the distinct sound of a zipper. 

Keith let his head fall back and rest against the wall of the stall, closing his eyes and keeping his breathing steady. 

Two grown men were not supposed to fit in this tiny stall. If Lance shifted he’d brush bare skin. He tried to keep his eyes fixed on the ground and his body still. Keith was hot, yeah. Lance knew that since college, but it was vague knowledge that teased the back of his mind. One more reason Keith was his better. But now, he'd seen him; bare chest and muscles, and sleepy eyes, and bent over, and it was hard to turn that switch off. To go back to seeing him as the scrawny college kid that got lucky. Not when he was faced directly with the very convincing rebuttal. 

Today could not get any worse. Stuck in a stall with his half-naked boss while some dude peed. Lance wanted to die. After the longest moment of his life, the dude left without washing his hands. Ugh, men were so nasty. 

Lance sighed, looking back at Keith. “Think you can get back to your office like that?” he whispered. 

“Yeah.” Keith’s voice was thick, strange. “Why are you whispering?” 

"So we don't get caught." Lance ran a hand down his face. "And people get the wrong idea."  _ And I get fired while you get a slap on the wrist. _

Keith shook his head.“But there’s no one...nevermind.” He maneuvered around Lance, bumping his hip against the doorframe to get out without touching him, and poked his head outside the bathroom. Satisfied the coast was clear, he looked over his shoulder. “Thanks. For your help.” Then he darted outside. 

_ And that's what privilege looks like,  _ thought Lance. He waited a few minutes before heading out to pick up the dry cleaning. 

He was at the shop exactly as the owner showed up to unlock the door. After explaining the situation, the guy let him in and fetched the suit. The price tag made Lance want to cry money. A VP's paycheck was a world away in comparison to his own. 

It took him a half hour to get back to Keith and that didn't leave much time to get him ready for his meeting. Lance rapped quickly on Keith's office door. 

“Come in, Lance.” 

“How’d you know it was me?” Lance asked, closing the door behind him. 

Keith smirked at him from behind his desk where he was rearranging papers into actionable piles. “Well, first of all,  _ you _ announce other visitors to me before they enter these days. Second, no one else I know has ever actually knocked by using ‘Shave and a Haircut.’” 

“Fair.” Lance held up the suit. “Just in time. Did you go over the meeting notes, yet?” He handed the suit over. 

“Yes.” Keith accepted it with a nod of thanks and began, unceremoniously, to change. “And the figures, and I’ve memorized everything I can. Your presentation is very well done, too - thanks for that. Think I can ask you for one more thing before go time?” He looked up at Lance from under his mop of fluffy hair as he shucked on clean pants. 

Frozen and face burning, Lance tried to keep his eyes on the ceiling. A few hours into the work week and he was already ready to go back to a vacation. “Ye--” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, “Yes?” 

“Another cup of coffee? For uh...good luck?” Keith’s little grin as he tucked his shirttails into his pants made him look younger, despite how haggard he was. 

“I swear you’re 90% coffee.” Lance calmed down with Keith dressed and met his eyes. The improvement was night and day. Despite the bags under his eyes, Keith looked sharp and ready, except for…“Your hair. I forgot. Sit down and I’ll fix it.” 

“What are you going to do, braid it?” Keith groused but did sit down as he buttoned the cuffs of his shirt. 

“Do you want a braid? I’m very skilled.” Lance grabbed the brush and transferred the hair tie from the handle to his wrist. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Keith said, then coughed. “How about we uh, skip the braid and go for something a little more ‘secure a deal with a multinational corporation with billions of dollars on the line?’” 

“You got it, boss.” Lance ran his thumbs from Keith’s temples to the back of his head, parting the hair in half and brushing out all the tangles. It waved naturally from air drying which gave him nice curls at the tip. Keith wasn’t lying about how thick his hair was. If Lance hadn’t parted it into tiers there was no way the brush would’ve gone through all of it. 

Lance tied off the top tier to give the illusion of an undercut from the front and then twisted the two tiers together to form a bun at the nape of Keith’s neck. “Let me see.” He spun Keith around and took his chin to move his head so he could examine his hard work. Not bad. It looked professional and unless anyone saw him from the back they’d think it was cut short. 

Keith gave a small whine when Lance finished and looked as if he’d been right on the verge of sleep. “...Did you give me a man bun? Is this a hint to cut my hair?” 

Rolling his eyes, Lance stuffed the brush in his back pocket. “No, but you wanted something that would get you a billion dollar deal and now you look like the winner of a billion dollar deal.” He reached out and pulled a strand from Keith’s ear so that it fell softly around his face. “There. And now you’re also a little bit yourself.” 

Keith raised his eyebrow. “So those are not the same person, huh?” 

"They will be once you land that deal." Lance caught himself smiling down at Keith and stepped back. “I’m going to get your coffee before it hits zero hour. Try to finish before noon, there’s an office meeting and you’re supposed to welcome everyone back instead of Kolivan.” 

Nodding, Keith stood and straightened his tie. “If I can pull this off…” He trailed off, his expression melting from pinched worry to confident professionalism. “Thank you for your help.” 

"What are assistants for?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Autumn: Merry Winter Festivities y’all
> 
> Sail: Updates will be irregular since we want it up by xmas and its the 20th....yeah we didn't plan this well. welp. good luck us
> 
> Remeber to Follow us on Twitter! [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us on Twitter! [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

❄️❄️❄️

The after-Thanksgiving company wide luncheon was in full blast. Turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and stuffing sprawled over three tables in various iterations. The party planning committee had outdone themselves with the decorations. There was a fish bowl full of paper on the podium and colorful streamers hanging from the tables, each with its own elaborate poinsettia centerpiece. 

Despite the Thanksgiving vibe, everyone was in a Christmas mood. Christmas songs played in the background and a few employees came to work in ugly sweaters. Everyone seemed cheerful as they ate their free lunch. 

Lance, however, was pacing outside the room. The meeting should've wrapped up an hour ago. He checked his phone again. Keith never called or texted and Lance suspected that his boss had never added him to his phone. 

Right as he was about to tear his hair out, the door opened. Keith walked out behind the President and Vice President of the company he had been presenting to. Keith caught his eye but his face remained impassive as they strode through the hallway. Lance followed a few steps behind. Infuriatingly, he couldn't tell if Keith had landed the deal or not. The executives made their to the front of the party and Lance held back, finding a table to stand next to. Keith walked to the podium, stiff-backed as he buttoned his suit coat. 

“May I have your attention?” he asked into the microphone, and “Holly Jolly Christmas” was turned down so he could speak. 

“First of all, let me welcome you back, and I hope that everyone had a relaxing break.” 

General murmurs of contentment, plus a few lame jokes about it not being long enough scattered through the crowd. 

Pidge came to stand next to Lance, half a dinner roll in her mouth. “Think he managed it?” she asked around semi-masticated yeast product. 

"He better've. I worked really hard on his hair." Lance stole a cookie off her plate and bit off the head of a frosted turkey. At Pidge's affronted look, he shrugged. "Stress eating." 

Pidge snorted. “I wondered why it looked all shiny and nice for a change.” 

“Second,” Keith continued, “I have an announcement that will be affecting everyone here starting next quarter.” 

That got everyone’s attention. Keith smoothed his hand over his front in a gesture Lance had come to recognize as a nervous habit. That didn’t seem good. 

Lance downed the rest of the cookie in one bite. 

“To my right is Mr. Jeffrey Coran, president of Wimbledon Industries.” Finally - finally - Keith’s lips twitched into a smile. “And our new partner. Our companies will be working together for the foreseeable future on the STAR project.” His gaze flicked to Lance, expression muted, but his eyes were sparkling. 

Relief washed over Lance and he shot Keith a crumb speckled smile with a thumbs up. All their effort paid off. And...their workload just doubled. Lance needed more cookies. 

Keith spent the next half an hour talking to just about everyone and their mother, shaking hands and accepting congratulations. Lance used the time to eat and watch his boss. This was the most he'd ever seen the man interact with so many people. With each cordial interaction, Lance saw Keith's business persona crack a little more. Lance was the last person he made it to, and by then, the strain was showing in the tight lines of his face. 

“I suppose I have your sisters to thank for my success today,” he said, trying for a smile but landing on a wry sort of grimace. 

"They say ‘you're welcome.’" Lance handed Keith a flute of sparkling cider and clinked the plastic cup with his own. "Congratulations. Lotor won't know what hit him." 

“And that’s all that matters.” Keith gave a salute with his cup. 

"Hey, I was thinking. Since you landed a billion dollar deal, if we-" 

"Can I have your attention!" Karen, the head of the party planning committee, said into the mic, cutting Lance off . "It's time to get your secret Santa! This bowl is just for show." Karen wiggled the fishbowl full of paper. "IT made us a wonderful app. If everyone can pull out their phones and go to the company portal, you'll see the banner at the top." 

Lance sighed and pulled out his phone, logging into the company portal with everyone else. There went his plans to try and get to know Keith better over a couple beers. He tapped the dancing elf in a snow globe. Animated snow fell down his screen and reacted as he moved his phone around. Nice one, Pidge. The words  _ Shake Me _ appeared in the blizzard. 

He gave Keith a smile. This was kinda cool. "Don't look, it's a secret." Lance shook his phone. 

Rolling his eyes, Keith gave a little smile as he did the same. 

_ Keith Kogane _ , the swirly font on Lance’s phone declared. 

Oh no.

Keith was frowning fiercely at his phone. “Oh no,” he whispered to it. 

Lance tried to peek at Keith's phone. "Who'd you get?" 

The speed with which Keith shoved his phone into his pants pocket was unnecessary. “You just said it was a secret.” He downed the rest of his cider and tossed the cup in the nearby recycling bin, evidently trying to look nonchalant. “I should have Pidge remove me, it doesn’t seem appropriate anyway.” 

"No, don't be silly. It's Christmas." Lance closed the tab and put his phone away. "Don't be a Grinch." 

Now Keith was pinching at the bridge of his nose, as if this idea was causing him deep pain. “I’m no good at Christmas.” 

"Christmas isn't a skill; it's a holiday." Lance took pity on Keith and added, "Don't worry about it. I'm your assistant. I'll get them something, you concentrate on the deal with Wimbledon." 

“No!” 

Keith looked about as surprised by his outburst as Lance did. Coloring a little, he shifted and looked out the window, frowning at the grey skies over the city. “I mean...I’m VP. The least I can do is...you know. I... should be able to handle this.” 

_ Should _ . The word seemed intended to project confidence, as if he was saying ‘oh, this shouldn’t be a problem,’ but the implication and tone made it sound more self-deprecating than anything. 

Lance put a hand on Keith's shoulder and squeezed. "When are you going to trust me to be your assistant? I got you through today, didn't I? Let me do this. Just tell me if they're a man or a woman and I'll take care of it. That's what I'm here for." 

“I do trust you,” Keith said quickly, and seemed surprised that he meant it. “But I, um. I need to do these kinds of things on my own, right? Be a man of the people?” The wince he gave indicated that yeah, it sounded as corny to him as it did to Lance. “But uh...your help would still be appreciated. Like I said - I’m no good at Christmas.” 

"Of course! That's exactly why you have me." Lance beamed. Keith was starting to trust him: this was wonderful. If he kept up this pace at work, then eventually his spot in the company would be secure. "You have one more meeting today and then your schedule is clear. Think you can make it, Mr. Man of the People?" 

“Don’t push it,” Keith grumbled. Then his eyebrow quirked. “One? What happened to the other three?” 

Lance shrugged, watching people filter out as they went back to their desks. "Worked some magic to get you off early. Figured you deserved it after this morning." 

The blank look Lance received showed that Keith quite clearly was not computing this information.  _ Go home early?  _ his brain seemed to say aloud.  _ But how _ ? 

“But...what about the shareholders? That’s 20-something people who I’m sure want to hear about the deal…” 

"And they can hear about it tomorrow. Everyone was more than happy not to have meetings today." Lance pulled up Keith's calendar on his phone and flipped it around for his boss to see. "The only one left is Kolivan at 2:30, then you're free." 

Keith still seemed to hesitate. “Then I ought to start on the merger agreement, it needs to be-" 

"You haven't been home in how many days? Nope, I don't want to know." Lance held up his finger as Keith tried to answer his rhetorical question. "You're taking the rest of the day off then you're going to go home, eat food that isn't takeout, and then sleep." 

“That’s all I eat,” was Keith’s last line of defense, but he sighed. “Okay. Thanks.” 

"Don't make me come over and cook for you too." Lance shoved his hands in his pockets. "But, you're welcome. Though, if you really don't have any food--" 

"Mr. Kogane," Karen said, stepping into their conversation. "Sorry to interrupt. Can I have a minute of your time?” She stared at Lance with a look that said  _ go away.  _

"I'll be at my desk, if you need me. Don't be late for your meeting with Kolivan." Lance took a step back and Karen filled in the vacated space. 

Keith made a tsking noise, but gave a quick nod before turning back to Karen. “What can I do for you, Ms. White?” 

Lance watched as Karen looped her arm through Keith’s in a move that was honestly ballsier than he’d have expected of her and dragged his boss away. His boss, and now his secret Santa. The secret Santa for whom he would need to shop. The secret Santa with no family who never celebrated Christmas.

With a sigh, he made his way back to the desserts. He was absolutely going to need more cookies. 

❄️❄️❄️

Lance ran through the days’ events as they drove. Keith watched the city move by at a snail's pace. Blade Inc. was hosting their annual charity event, Blade in the Park, for local kids. Today was the grand opening for the pop-up ice rink and Keith had been chosen as the face. Nevermind that he didn’t know how to skate. Or what to say. And hated being around kids.

"After you give the closing speech, we'll head down to the hotel for your dinner with Lotor." Lance put his phone down, looking up expectantly. 

“Alternatively,” Keith said, still watching buildings pass at a disinterested crawl, “I could jump off a cliff. That sounds preferable to dinner with Lotor.” 

"I had a feeling you'd say that," Lance sighed. "I already tried rescheduling him, but he wouldn't have it. You know," Lance said leaning back and crossing his arms. "He isn't that bad, a little snooty, but I don't understand why you hate him so much. Is owning the company so important that you won't even eat with the guy?" 

The headache was beginning to win out and it was only three o’clock. Keith knuckled at the space between his brows and grunted. “Lotor and I have...a bit of a history. It’s certainly not common knowledge, and I often wish I didn’t remember it myself.” 

Lance turned away, putting his elbow on the door and resting his head on his fist. "I see." Horns blared as the traffic jam worsened. They’d been stuck at this light for what seemed to be going on ten minutes. "You're still in love then?" The car rolled forward and stopped. 

Keith barked out a laugh that also sort of felt like vomiting. “Oh my god, hardly. It was a few drunken nights at an out of town conference, but you’d never know it with the way he acts, all smug and superior. As if it didn’t take three bottles of tequila to make him even remotely…” Keith trailed off, realizing how far he’d gone. He coughed and sank a little into the scarf around his neck. “Sorry, that was unprofessional.” 

Lance blinked at him a few times before holding his stomach as he bent over laughing. "I'm sorry," he wheezed between giggles. "You're just always so… _ you _ . It's nice when I get to see your other sides." He wiped his eyes and straightened. "This is going to make tonight's dinner even more amusing." 

“Are you coming too?” Keith sat up a little straighter. “That would help make things...wait.” He scrunched his nose in distaste. “What does that mean, ‘always so me?’” 

"Hm. Well, tonight I go where you go." Lance gestured around them. "You're my ride." 

“I am both eternally grateful and extremely sorry,” Keith chuckled. “Maybe you can come up with something better for me to say than ‘Happy Holidays, enjoy this water we paid a lot of money to make solid.’” 

“Yep, there it is. The  _ you  _ you _ . _ ” Lance elbowed him, leaning into his personal space. “Loosen up. This is an event for kids. Let’s at least have some fun.” 

Keith pulled his phone from his pocket as it buzzed and tugged his glove off with his teeth to reply. “M pleddy looz,” he muttered around the leather. 

“Sure you are.” Lance took the glove from Keith’s mouth, wiping the spit off on the seat. 

“Kogane,” Keith said blandly into the phone before his expression cooled. “No, that is  _ not  _ what we agreed on. I said a maximum of seven tents, any more and we will need an additional license. Well, what are they doing there? No, Martin, what are they doing  _ there  _ and not at the entrance on 4th where they’re supposed to - Look, nevermind, I’m almost there and I’ll handle it. Tell them  _ not  _ to set up until they see me in person.” He hung up and let his head thunk back against the headrest. 

“Yikes, looks rough.” Lance clapped a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “What did they do?” He squeezed slightly when Keith tensed under his hand. 

“What didn’t they do is more like,” Keith grunted before melting into the seat upholstery. 

“I thought you were  _ pleddy looz _ ,” Lance mimicked. He massaged up Keith’s shoulder, slipping his hand under Keith’s scarf to get as his neck. 

Keith had evidently used the spray conditioner Lance had recommended, and Lance was happy he had. His hair was down today and the strands slipped through Lance’s fingers, soft and silky. Lance rubbed his neck in small circles, easing the tension that collected at the base of his skull. 

“I said before this wasn’t in your job description,” Keith said from somewhere on the ethereal plane. 

“Oh? I can stop.” Lance paused but didn’t pull away. 

Keith leaned his neck into Lance like a cat. “Stop and I’ll fire you.” 

Lance’s fingers started again, digging into the muscles and willing them to relax. “I’m going to start scheduling you a yoga appointment.” 

The massage didn’t last long. The driver pulled to a stop at the park and let them know they’d arrived. 

Keith and Lance piled out. Lance insisted on carrying everything because ‘The VP of Blade can’t be seen bumbling with supplies when he should be shaking hands _ ’.  _ They made their way to the entrance, a huge archway looped with red and white stripes and topped with an enormous spray of greenery. Overnight, the park had been absolutely transformed into a winter wonderland. Fake snow gushed into the air from somewhere behind the bushes and lights hung in colorful strands from the bare trees. A sign welcoming everyone to the North Pole was cheerfully blinking, followed by a reasonably unassuming but still very insistent “Presented by Blade, Inc.” because, you know, America.

Martin waved at them as they walked up. 

“Mr. Kogane,” he panted, coming to stop in front of them. “I’m sorry, the driver misunderstood and-“ He shut up as Keith waved a dismissive hand and stormed past, making a direct beeline for the small armada of trucks and people standing idly around. 

For the next hour, Keith was barking out orders, pulling everything back from the precipice of disaster into efficiently organized chaos. With twenty minutes to spare, everything was where it needed to be and he finally had a minute to breathe. He hadn’t even removed his gloves or scarf and by the time Lance found him, he was sniffling from the cold. 

Lance handed him a warm cup of spiced cider. “That was impressive, boss. You saved Christmas for the children.” 

“No,” Keith said, accepting his cup with lingering irritation. “I saved us from an embarrassing front page spread about how Blade Inc. can’t organize the same annual fundraiser it’s been putting on for thirty years during which  _ nothing has changed, Martin _ !” The last bit was half-heartedly yelled over his shoulder, though Martin had already crawled into a hole somewhere. “How long until the speech and I can get out of here?” 

Lance frowned. "But also the kids." He checked his phone obediently. "Twenty minutes, then you should probably skate for at least thirty. After that you can sneak away and eat with your favorite coworker who can't hold his tequila." 

Keith snorted over the plastic lid of his cider. “I’m not skating. You’re welcome to if you want.” 

"You  _ have _ to skate," Lance said, lowering his voice to a hiss. "It's Blade's annual Christmas charity.  _ Santa is here. _ " Lance pointed to a man walking passed them in full costume. 

Santa waved with a, "Ho ho ho." 

“I don’t  _ have  _ to do anything,” Keith replied snappily, giving a nonchalant shrug. “Especially when I’ve never gone ice skating in my entire life. I’m not making an ass of myself out there. If Santa wants to skate, he is more than welcome to.” 

“You’ve never…That doesn’t matter, this is  _ your _ charity.” Lance crossed his arms, glaring winter blue eyes at Keith. “Fine. Then I’m walking home. You can eat with Lotor alone.” 

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “Are you seriously blackmailing me into ice skating? Of all things? Why do you care so much?” 

Lance counted on his fingers. “First, it's the right thing to do. I came to this thing as a kid and Kolivan  _ always _ skated. Second, the children don’t care if you can skate or not, they’ll be excited to see you out there. Third, if you really need a shitty corporate reason, it’s good PR.” He held Keith’s eyes. 

“You came to this?” Keith stared at Lance, uncomprehending. That must’ve caught Lance off guard, because he immediately deflated and looked away. Keith swore the deepening red on his cheeks wasn’t from the cold. 

“I thought I told you in the interview that it was my dream to work here. I wasn’t lying,” his voice was barely over a whisper. 

“Hey.” 

Keith reached out before he’d thought better of it and turned Lance’s face back towards him. “Tell me about it. What was it like?” 

Lance bit his lip, looking up at Keith through his lashes. With a sigh he leaned back, pulling out of Keith's grip, but stayed close. "My family immigrated to America when I was five. We didn't have a lot of money for Christmas, but then my dad took us here." Lance pointed to the frozen rink. "It was the first time I'd ever seen ice like that before." 

There was a long pause but Keith was quiet, patiently waiting for him to continue. 

"I sat on the bench watching everyone laughing and having fun," Lance finally said. "Then Kolivan came up to me and asked me why I wasn't skating. He convinced me to try." Lance blinked, coming back to reality. "He remembered me the next year and the next." 

There was a stretch of silence during which Lance studied the ground and Keith counted their clouds of breath before he came to a decision. With a stifled sigh, he threw his cider in the recycling and shot Lance a pointed look. “I didn’t dress for this. So the next coffee better be twice as hot.” 

Lance looked up from the ground, rising like the sun, his smile practically glowing. “Aye aye, captain.” He turned, stopped, and looked at Keith over his shoulder. “It means a lot to me that you’re doing this so...thanks.” He ran off towards the park exit in pursuit of the hottest gosh darn coffee he could Christmas-miracle up. 

Ten minutes before his speech, Keith did indeed have a blistering hot coffee in his hand and note cards with highlighted points that were much more eloquent than  _ enjoy the ice or whatever _ . It went over well and soon he was cutting a ribbon to open the rink for the public. Children roared as they slid onto the ice, laughing and screaming. Many fell right on their butts, only to be helped up by parents or older siblings. Keith tried not to make a face.

Lance slid up beside him, holding out a pair of skates. “Ready to keep your promise?” 

Glumly, Keith took the skates from Lance and looked them over, already calculating the impact they would have on his ankles. “I didn’t promise anything. I just said I wasn’t dressed correctly.” Looking around for a bench or something, Keith eyed a concrete barrier that separated the stairs to the sunken area of the rink from the traffic on the street. There was a little girl there with what was presumably an older brother who was helping her tie her own skates. Keith made to find somewhere else to go but Lance was already tugging them over. 

Defeated, Keith sank down on the concrete and began to pull off his polished leather shoes with mournful reluctance. 

“Hi,” the little girl chirped at him, smiling through missing teeth. Keith tried not to wince. 

“Hello,” he answered warily. 

“I’m going skating!” she continued, pointing to her feet and her brother’s head as he struggled to keep her still long enough to cram her skate on. 

“I see that.” An amused lifted eyebrow from Lance prompted Keith to continue. “Are you...uh...any good at skating?” 

“Probably the best. Tony is second best.” 

The brother, Tony, rolled his eyes and glanced up at them. “Sorry, she’s just excited. This is like her favorite thing.” 

And oh if that didn’t make Lance look  _ so  _ smug. Keith ignored him and tried to loosen the laces on his beaten up, rented skate. “Uh. That’s...good. That’s good.” Glaring up at Lance through his bangs, Keith mentally pleaded for help. Skating was one thing; speaking to  _ children  _ about skating was another. 

Sitting down next to Keith, Lance collected Keith’s shoes and put them in a bag. “Don’t worry, this is his favorite thing too,” he said, pointing at Keith with his chin. “But, he’s learning. Maybe you can show him a few pointers.” Lance slipped off his own shoes and tugged on his skates. 

“You’re pushing it,” Keith threatened under his breath. 

“OkaycomeonI’llteachyoulet’sgorightnow!” The girl said in an enthusiastic rush, grabbing for Keith’s hand. 

“Emily!” Her brother scolded right as Keith hissed ‘Oh god it’s touching me’ under his breath to Lance. Lance, the bastard, just laughed. 

As it turned out, going downstairs in ice skates was really rather difficult. Additionally, walking on frozen water with your feet strapped to razor blades was also difficult. Keith made it about two feet before he was awkwardly shuffling to the wall to hold on for dear life. Luckily for him, Tony had come to collect his overeager sister and Keith was left to his misery, trying to come to terms with what his life had become. 

“Hey, wall hugger.” Lance glided in front of him, skating slowly backwards. “Having fun?” 

Keith glared daggers at Lance and his stupid grace and coordination. “Time of my life, thanks. Who discovered this for the first time? Who invented this? Why does this exist?” 

“Don’t look at me; I’m from an island.” Lance held out his hands. “Here, I’ll teach you.” 

Hesitating, Keith peered at him suspiciously. “Is there anything I’ve forgotten about recently for which you’d like revenge?” 

“Well...there was Monday. Oh, and the day you made me get you new socks, and not to mention the day you couldn’t live without peppermint in your coffee, so I had to go across town because they were out at all the local shops--” 

“I’m not taking your hands. You have a catalog of grudges.” 

“And yet, have I ever let you down?” Lance wiggled his bare fingers invitingly. 

Keith thought about that. 

It was true; in the month and change that Lance had worked for him, he had never once disappointed. Infuriatingly so. Even when Keith had almost  _ tried  _ to be as obtuse and frustrating as possible in the hopes that Lance would quit and he could go back to managing his own affairs, Lance had endured. With a smile, no less. And the result was that Keith’s life, loathe as he was to admit it, was easier. 

He placed his hands in Lance’s. “Go slow.” 

“It’s not really your fault you know, this ice is pretty bumpy. It’s like starting at expert level.” Lance held Keith firm even during his panicked wobbles. 

Slowly, so very slowly, Keith became more steady on his feet. He still clutched to Lance for dear life, but he had a rhythm that was constantly pushing him forward. To his awe, he was skating. Lance let go of one hand, but kept a firm grip on the other and turned to match his pace. 

“How’s it feel?” 

“Cold,” Keith said, but his mind was saying  _ fun _ . He still wasn’t looking anywhere but directly in front of himself as he carved lines into the ice he had just paid to create. “How often do you do this?” 

“In the winter? A lot. In the summer though, my soul belongs to the ocean. I guess I like water in all its forms.” Lance squeezed his hand. “Wanna try by yourself?” 

“No.” That answer had come a little too quickly, so he looked askance at Lance and amended, “though if you want to go around on your own for a while, I can sit out.” 

Lance looked out over the ice, not meeting Keith’s eyes. “I’m fine. Sometimes going fast isn’t the fun part.” 

The thing about winter was that the sun went down extremely early, which meant that the rink was lit mostly by the yellow glow of artificial lanterns and the twinkling Christmas lights looped into garland strung between them. It cast Lance into a warm silhouette, greying out the blue of his eyes but in no way dimming their brightness. Keith hadn’t noticed how prominent his freckles were until then, nor how long his lashes were. He swallowed when Lance turned to him, opening his mouth with the slightest quirk of a smile to say - 

Not words, apparently, but a muffled sound of pain as Keith lost his footing and flew backwards, dragging Lance with him. He felt the impact of his ass on solid ice almost as a ringing in his tailbone shortly before the weight of Lance landing on top of him forced his breath out in a huff. 

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Lance pulled Keith’s hands off the ice and safely out of reach from passing blades. His hands flew over Keith's face and arms as if damage from a fall would be visible to his fingers. 

“You,” Keith grunted, “are  _ so  _ much heavier than you look.” His face was red, definitely, but the only thing hurt was his pride. To combat this, he turtled himself down into his scarf. 

Lance rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re fine.” He wiggled off Keith, slipping as he did and falling a few more times before he could dig in his skates. “Your eyes were so big right before you fell,” he snickered, helping Keith sit up. 

“Well if  _ yours  _ hadn’t-“ Keith slammed his mouth shut. What in the hell was he going to say?  _ Sparkled in the Christmas lights, maybe I wouldn’t have fallen?  _ Jesus. Maybe he really had smacked his head on the ice. “Ow,” he complained instead, but he did give Lance a crooked little grin. 

Hiding behind his hand, Lance snorted, then the snort grew into chuckles and finally busted into laughter. "Sorry," another snort, "It's just, you're worth millions and yet, the ice doesn't care. Your butt is going to be so bruised in the morning. It's kinda charming." 

A passing skater gave them a dirty look and Lance stuck out his tongue. 

“Ice - the great equalizer,” Keith said, using the last gasps of his dignity to haul himself to his feet, bravely offering Lance a hand. “I guess I’m glad I could bring you some joy in the form of my humiliation and my charming butt.” 

Lance took it but didn't lean on Keith as he stood. "Why don't we take your butt for some rest? There's a Christmas market really close to here. You can walk it off and maybe find something for your secret Santa gift." 

“There’s a what now?” 

"Don't tell me you haven't been to the Christmas market." Lance tugged gently at their linked hands, leading Keith towards the exit. “How long have you lived here?" 

“Uh...six, seven years?” Keith allowed himself to be pulled along, though secretly he was more than a little reluctant to be done with the skating. “What do you buy at a Christmas market? Just...Christmas?” 

"Yes Keith, you buy Christmas. The whole holiday," Lance deadpanned. "No, it's like a mini fair full of stuff to buy that's all Christmas themed. They have food and last year they had rides. Are you sure you live here?" Lance stepped out of the rink and to the side, holding his hand steady for Keith. 

Keith leaned into Lance’s support as he took his first step off the ice and any reluctance he felt to leave was replaced by the relief of solid ground. “Why would I have been there? I already told you I don’t really do Christmas.” 

"Who doesn't do Chri-  _ Oh.  _ I didn't mean to assume. What religion are you?" After Keith's feet hit solid ground, Lance let go. They made their way over to the lockers. 

“Nothing,” Keith said automatically, because it was true, but after it had slipped out he realized that he probably should have said something else, named anything, to give himself an out. Instead, he resigned himself to just ripping the truth off like a bandaid. “Just. Wasn’t really a thing in the orphanage. Or foster care in it for the checks. Or while homeless.” 

Lance was quiet as he pulled their shoes out of the locker and handed Keith his. He didn’t say anything as they put them on. 

This was the part Keith hated most, the period where people weighed all the various ways there were to say ‘Sorry.’ He had heard every expression of pity out there, and it never became less nauseating. Or irritating. 

Once the skates were returned, Lance put a hand on Keith’s back, feather light. “I’m sorry for the things I thought about you in my head.” 

Keith snorted. “When? I probably deserved it.” 

“I thought you were an entitled, privileged asshole who was handed everything on a silver platter. You always beat me in school and then you didn’t even remember me. I thought we were rivals.” Lance huffed out a self-deprecating laugh. “After graduation you became a bigshot in my dream company and I became your assistant. Guess things haven’t really changed since college, actually.” 

“Uh.” Keith legitimately did not know what to say to that sort of admission. Never had anyone referred to him as “entitled” or “privileged.” The idea of anyone thinking that was so bizarre he almost wanted to laugh. “I…” He was going to say he was sorry, but was he? Not for his success, no. He had worked too long and too hard to earn it, and he was proud of what he had accomplished. But he did feel badly that it made Lance think less of himself. 

“I didn’t mean to give you that impression. But, for what it’s worth…” He looked down at his shoes, hoping the color in his cheeks could be written off as the cold. “You’ve been pretty invaluable. And they wouldn’t have gone behind my back to hire an assistant if I was handling everything well.” It stung to admit, but it was true. 

Lance shoved him with his elbow. “This proves that people are more than their first impressions, huh? It’s almost like you’re a decent guy who cares about his job and employees.” 

“You mean you’re not an overeager idiot who can’t string together two words? You’re a hardworking person with an eye for detail who is disgustingly good with people?” 

“It’s a possibility. Though, I guess you’d have to get to know me more to find out.” Lance stood up and stretched. “What do you say? Wanna try it?” 

Keith’s head snapped up. “Getting to know you?” What was Lance implying? 

“Yeah, why not? We have to work together, don’t we? And, if I really have to admit it, I like you. You’re not half bad.” Lance shrugged with a crooked grin. “For a coffee-obsessed boss.” 

_ Oh shit,  _ Keith thought.  _ Lance had a really. Cute. Smile.  _

“Uh...yeah. Sure. Why not.” He was still sitting, he should probably stand. So he did. Then he didn’t know what to do with his hands. They went in his pockets, because pockets were for hands. “How do we do that.” 

“I don’t know, how do you usually make friends?” 

Keith narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Was this a test? “Pidge looked at my notes in class, told me they were wrong, and then we went to Costco.” 

Lance pressed his lips together, suppressing his smile. He managed for a valiant moment before the laugh won. “I can’t tell if you’re inviting me to Costco, if you want me to look over your notes, or if you’d like me to insult you.” He nodded in the direction of the supposed market. “How about some Christmas shopping and then we can talk about Costco over some cocoa?” 

The little smile that brought out of Keith was shy, but Lance had earned that at least with his forthrightness. “Christmas shopping I can handle, but I’d rather not relive Costco. It was only because we both lived off of ramen, and also splurging on a one-dollar slice of pizza was a big treat back then.” 

“Fine, no Costco.” 

It didn’t take them long to walk to the market. The lights guided them the whole way with signs and banners cheering them on, becoming progressively more elaborate and aggressively festive the nearer they came. Spice and chocolate drowned out smog as they stepped through time, or across the planet, or something and into somewhere colorful and happy and decidedly not the same city Keith called home these days. Christmas music played over loudspeakers and foam floated through the air to mimic snow. Lance turned to Keith. “Let’s get some cocoa first, I’m freezing.” 

“Oh, wow, you weren’t kidding.” Keith took it all in, feeling a little overwhelmed. “It’s like Christmas threw up.” 

“Orrrrr we could go shopping first,” Lance said, pinching his face. “I don’t want to think about Christmas puke while drinking cocoa.” 

“No, no, sorry. Cocoa it is. Lead the way.” As Keith fell into step next to Lance, he tugged off his scarf and looped it around Lance’s neck, being careful not to clothesline him as he did. That was not, Keith imagined, how one made friends. “Here. I don’t need it; I run hot. Do you not have gloves either?” 

Lance looked down at the scarf in shock. "You don't have to," he said, starting to take it off. 

“Lance,” Keith said in his boss-voice. “I just said I don’t need it. Here.” He handed over the spare set of leather gloves he kept tucked into the inside of his overcoat. 

"Why," Lance asked, looking down at the gloves and back up at Keith, "do you have two sets?" He leaned back to inspect Keith's jacket. "Do you have another pair of arms that you hide from humans?" 

“I just like gloves,” Keith mumbled defensively. 

"You just…" Lance snorted. "Man, sometimes I wish I had the guts in school to talk to you--" He snapped his mouth shut and tucked into the scarf, mumbling, "Thanks." 

“I don’t blame you for not doing it,” Keith hummed in agreement, peering around at the stalls. The row they were in seemed exclusively dedicated to nutcrackers. “Not like I was particularly friendly. I just…didn’t have room to focus on anything but passing and finally getting out and supporting myself.” 

"I thought you were pretty cool back then, but I think you grew into yourself." Lance's cheeks were as red as the scarf. "Plus it paid off,  _ boss _ ." 

Keith raised an amused eyebrow. “Just before you told me you thought I was an entitled asshole. Make up your mind.” 

"You were a pretty cool entitled asshole. A person can be both. I mean, that's what Hollywood stars are. ANYways-" Lance pointed at a booth with steam rolling out of it. "There's cocoa, let's go." He plowed ahead, leaving Keith a few paces behind. 

With Lance’s attention elsewhere, Keith took the opportunity to glance around the market. So far as he could tell, it looked like it covered around five or six city blocks in any given direction, with the central point an enormous Christmas Tree that put on a synchronized light show every twenty minutes or so. The tree lighting was always televised, so he’d caught parts of it over the years as he was grocery shopping or waiting at the bank. It was a lot bigger and more impressive in person, Keith could admit, and the little bits of foamy “snow” made everything just...well, really fucking festive. This did seem like the kind of thing a cheesy guy like Lance would eat up. 

So maybe that was the key. Just...get him something Christmasy, yeah? Lance was his secret Santa, Lance liked Christmas. He could probably point in any given direction and find something that Lance would be fine with. He wasn’t far away enough now for Keith to sneak off, but maybe there would be an opportunity in a while. 

By the time he caught up, Lance was already pointing to the menu and giving their orders because of course he was. Keith slid up beside him and eyed the options. Not like it would probably matter. He was either going to like or hate them all equally. No telling really, since he hadn’t had cocoa since - wow, maybe like First Grade? 

Lance traded the company card for two cups of cocoa and handed one to Keith. "I got you peppermint," he said, blowing on his own cup. "Careful, it's hot." 

“Is the hot cocoa hot?” he asked innocently, taking a sip. It was hot, yeah, but he always wanted his drinks just shy of scalding. “So you got your cocoa, what’s next on the Hallmark agenda?” 

After getting the card back, Lance sipped on his cocoa. “You seem to be having fun.” He looked around, eyes lingering on this or that until they lit up. 

Keith followed his eyes. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Lance tugged on Keith’s sleeve. “It’s Ferris wheel time!” 

“No. Lance. No,” Keith protested even as Lance was dragging him and he was trying not to spill his cocoa on his best coat. “It is not and never will be Ferris wheel time. Isn’t it, uh...too cold? It’ll be even colder.” 

“It’s always Ferris wheel time and we have cocoa.” Lance paused for a second. “Do you think we can use the corporate card? Probably not.” He tugged Keith forward again. “My treat.” 

And what was Keith going to say to that? No? Lance was like a little kid, Keith couldn’t squash that excitement, and besides - there was no way he would just flat out admit that he was terrified. Not now, not ever. 

“We can put it on the corporate card.” Keith was pleased with how steady his voice sounded. “Kolivan does it all the time.” 

"Kolivan is using his card on funfair rides? I might have to tell HR." Lance winked at Keith. 

The closer they got, the more his heart moved up his throat and began to stuff up his airways. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips just by looking up, up, all the way to where the topmost car on the wheel swung dangerously in the freezing wind. 

"What color do you want?" 

“What?” 

Lance patiently repeated his question, gesturing to the wheel. “The cars. What color do you want?” 

Keith’s favorite color was red. “Blue,” he said. 

"Me too." Lance got in line for tickets. "But, I wouldn't mind the purple one either." After buying way too many tickets for one ride, he folded them up and put them in his bag. "I hope that's enough tickets. Since you're so kindly letting the company pay for it, we might as well have fun." 

Keith swallowed as he eyed the bag. “How many trips is that?” 

"One, duh. Well, we can do more if you want, but I thought we could do some of the games too." Lance rushed, adding, "Since it's your first Christmas market." 

His relief was probably palpable. “Okay. Let’s get-“  _ This over with.  _ “...In line.” 

The wait was cruelly short, the ride managers wholly too efficient. In less time than he was prepared for, Lance, Keith, Keith’s hot cocoa, and the remains of Keith’s brave facade were all boarding the purple car. He sat next to Lance, pressed together in the small seat, and tried to take in deep breaths as a metal bar was locked into place - the only thing keeping him from certain death. 

Lance swung his legs as the wheel lifted them up and back. The car rocked in time with his feet. Keith slammed his eyes shut and gripped the bar with his free hand until the leather of his gloves creaked. 

“Hey…” Lance’s feet slowed and his voice was soft next to Keith’s ear. “Are you okay?” 

“Fine.” The word ground its way out from behind Keith’s clenched teeth, and he tried to force himself to slow his breathing. He gave up on that when the wheel came to a halt and the car rocked. The only hope he had was that Lance couldn’t see his shoulders rising and falling rapidly under his bulky coat. 

Keith could feel Lance’s eyes burning into the side of his skull, but he was too busy trying not to fall to care. Lance’s voice was more urgent this time, “Keith?” He leaned forward and came into Keith’s peripheral. Lance’s nose was pinched into a cute wrinkle and his eyebrows were drawn up with worry. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights.” 

“Not scared,” Keith muttered, because he wasn’t scared. He was terrified. 

Part of him wanted to cuss Lance out because he had tried, he’d  _ tried _ to protest, but no, fucking Kris Kringle over here just had to go on the death wheel. Not that it was Lance’s fault that Keith was stubborn. Cracking his eyes open a little more, he tried to take a casual sip of his cocoa, but his hand shook and a little spilled out. 

“Oh my God, why didn’t you tell me?” Lance put his hand over Keith’s to steady the cup. “Woah, okay.” He took a loud inhale and exhale, in and out, slow and long. His other hand came up to cup Keith’s chin and turn his head until they were eye to eye. Lance continued to breathe, keeping the pace steady. 

They sat there as the wind rocked them. When he panicked and tried to look down, Lance would gently tug him back with a firm hand. Keith had no choice but to look only at Lance’s eyes. The car shifted again as the wheel began to turn, bringing them higher. 

“I told you it wasn’t Ferris wheel time,” Keith said quietly, but there was no venom in it. He was too busy looking at Lance, into Lance’s eyes, watching the fairgrounds scatter kaleidoscopic starlight into the blue of them. How much time had he spent tonight just looking in Lance’s eyes? It had to be making him uncomfortable, but Keith was having a very hard time doing anything else. 

“I guess you did. My bad.” Lance took Keith’s cup and replaced it with his own fingers. “You know, I’m super scared of Krampus.” 

“What?” Keith shook his head a little, jolted by the subject change. 

“Yeah, when I was little I watched this Christmas movie on Netflix and didn’t realize it was actually horror.” The car swung in the breeze and Lance stroked his thumb over Keith’s hand. “I’d never heard of Krampus before that and once I finished I was scarred for life. I used to lie awake at night scared that he was going to come and steal me away.” 

“I don’t know what Krampus is,” Keith admitted, voice tight as the Ferris wheel jolted to a stop once more for their viewing pleasure. 

“Really? You’ve never seen all the memes and - you know what, doesn’t matter. Short version: really fucking scary, the end.” 

Keith hummed distractedly as he looked behind Lance to the city growing smaller. His throat constricted, but he tried to grind out words. “Yeah but like...are you still  _ scared  _ of it?” 

Lance huffed, playing with Keith’s cup. “I’m still a little scared even though I’m a grown ass adult. Last Christmas I woke up from a nightmare and my brother found me downstairs cleaning and knew exactly why. He laughed at me all night. At least you don’t have anyone laughing at you.” 

“Why would they laugh if m’not scared,” Keith said in a rushed, childish mumble, because wow, now even some of the other rides were starting to look small and just how damn high  _ was  _ this thing? 

"Of course you're not. You're just squeezing my hand numb because you like me." The car slowed to a stop at the top of the wheel. Lance huffed, his breath suspended in the cold air. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Though, Karen might not be very happy about it." 

“What the hell does Karen have to do with - oh.” 

Whatever Keith was going to say about Karen was stolen from him in a white-cloud exhale. At the top of the wheel, he could see the city spreading out behind Lance, all black velvet and twinkling lights. Beyond the skyline, where the buildings grew squatter, he could make out the inky curve of the bay as it pressed against the piers and wharves, reflecting some of the city light in its lightly ruffled waters. It was...actually really beautiful. 

“Wow,” he said. 

Lance followed Keith’s gaze. “Yeah,” it came out as a sigh. “It feels like a different world.” He turned back to Keith. “Still hate it?” 

_ Not as long as you don’t let go,  _ Keith’s heart said, while his brain panicked and chastised his heart for that uncalled-for line of thinking. His mouth said, “It’s not bad.” 

“Not bad at all,” Lance said, smiling sideways at Keith. He coughed. “Wanna go shopping after we land?” 

“Shhh,” Keith said with a smirk. “I’m enjoying the view.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: Like i said....posting is irregular, how many chapters go up in a day is ....unknown! its like....presents! how many today? no one knowssss
> 
> Think we're cool? Check out our twitter! [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you heard? Every time you follow us on Twitter a chapter gets its wings! [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

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The ride down felt twice as fast as the ride up. Once Keith was more relaxed and was trying to convince himself that he was still scared enough to need Lance's hand, his feet were touching solid ground and Lance was pulling away. They spent a few minutes walking around before Lance pointed at a stall with a big stuffed lion in a Santa hat. 

"Aw, look at that baby, she's so cute.” 

It took Keith a minute to realize what Lance was referring to, having been scanning strollers and such, trying to identify any small humans that might classify as cute since they all more or less looked the same to Keith. “The lion?” A thought occurred to him and he glanced sideways at Lance. “...You own a whole bunch of stuffed animals, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. 

"Well, I don't own that one." Lance almost pouted before he pulled his face back into a professional smile. "I'm going to try and win it." He steered them towards the stall. 

“Of course you are,” Keith agreed, but he was smiling too. 

Lance handed over a wad of tickets in exchange for three darts. He threw the first dart. It flew true and slid passed the balloon, leaving it unharmed. 

“Keen eye,” Keith said sagely. 

“Shut up.” He threw the second one and it bounced off the board. “Hold on, I got this.” The third one popped a balloon. Lance threw his hands in the air as he turned to Keith. “I did it! Did you see that?” 

“Your prize.” A tap on his shoulder had Lance turning around to come face to face with a small bear. 

“I wanted the lion.” Lance pointed at the giant stuffed lion hanging above them. 

“You have to pop six balloons to get that one. You popped one. You get the bear.” The man shoved the tiny thing into Lance’s hands. “Next!” 

Well, that was just uncalled for. 

Keith reached into Lance’s coat pocket, drawing out a long line of tickets. Without waiting for the man to offer, he helped himself to six darts from the basket on the counter. For the first time in his life, he was grateful for all of the many, many,  _ many  _ times Kolivan had insisted Keith accompany him to the bar with future clients and business partners. Even if Keith didn’t love beer and didn’t love socializing, he had become insanely good at darts. 

With narrowed eyes and laser focus, he took them out in quick, lethal succession. Six neat pops for six unerring darts and the swift death of six doomed balloons. Turning his cold eyes to the booth attendant, he gestured to Lance. 

“A Christmas lion for my companion, if you please.” 

The attendant looked like he rather eat all the darts than pull down the prize lion. Lance held out his arms. “The blue one.” 

At Keith’s glare, Lance’s arms were soon full of a giant lion. 

“That was kinda badass,” Lance said, face half hidden behind the stuffed animal. 

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Keith gave a nonchalant shrug, but he was definitely wearing the smuggest of smirks. “Yeah, well, don’t say I never gave you nothing.” 

“This  _ is _ an improvement over your normal gift of extra work right before the end of the day. ” A booth caught Lance’s eye and he made a b-line for a stall set up like a shooting gallery. “I can’t let you take all the glory for today, though.” 

“A shooting booth?” 

“Yeah. I’m so good, they call me the sharpshooter.” There were only a handful of tickets left. 

“Who is ‘they?’ And how many lions do you need?” 

“Everyone and one," Lance said over his shoulder as he set the tickets down. He pointed at the lion that looked like his own hanging above him. "How do I win that?" 

“Knockdown all the birdies in the time limit and you win. Twelve tickets.” Lance gave the man twelve tickets and picked up the BB gun. A few other people filled in the remaining stools and Keith took up position behind Lance, careful not to impede his aim lest he distract the consummate professional. 

A buzz sounded and Lance shot the little metal targets one after the other. They fell as soon as they lifted. Even the ones that only half lifted fell under the barrage. The buzzer went off again and a bell rang above Lance’s head. 

“Winner, winner, winner! We got a winner here!” the man shouted into his microphone. Heads turned to look at the booth, stopping to watch the spectacle. “Which prize do you want? You can have the biggest one.” 

“That red one.” Lance pointed and the man nodded. 

Once Lance had a lion in each arm he spun in his stool and held the red one out to Keith. “Merry Christmas.” 

Keith held out his arms and accepted his lion, a little in awe. When he looked back up at Lance, his face split into a grin and then outright laughter. The absurdity of it was charming, much like Lance. And he had to admit - the show was impressive. 

So he gave credit where credit was due. “Alright, Sharpshooter, I believe you. Was this your master plan? To get matching stuffed lions with your boss?” 

Lance's cheeks turned rosy. “If you don’t want it, I can take it back.” Lance reached out, grabbing at the red lion. 

“Don’t you dare.” Keith hid it behind his back protectively. “But you can name it.” 

Lance smirked like he’d won some unknown game only he was playing. “How about Red?” 

“Straight to the point. I like it.” Keith looked down at his watch. “Looks like we’ve got about an hour before dinner. Shopping?” 

“Sure.” Lance wrapped his lion over his shoulders as they walked. 

They wove between stalls, pointing at the over-glittered monstrosities and softly touching delicate glass before being reprimanded. Along the next aisle, they both stopped to bend over and admire the work of a merchant who made handcrafted  _ Weihnachtspyramide _ . Keith watched the little figures turn with detached, mild interest, but the way Lance was smiling at them all made him curious. 

“What’s up?” he asked. 

Lance glanced up with a sort of faraway smile. “Mm?” 

Keith nodded his head at the turning Christmas pyramids. “You’re smiling at these. Something on your mind?” 

“Oh. Yeah.” Lance’s smile was taking him miles and years away once again. The memories flickered with the candlelight, reflecting in his eyes as the wings of the windmill cast a pattern of shadows across his face. “We had a bunch of these when I was little. My Abuelo really liked them, and I used to spend hours on my belly just listening to Christmas music and watching them turn while he told me stories. They only came out at Christmas, so seeing them was always special. I was just thinking about him, is all.” 

It was so foreign to Keith, the idea of hanging that sort of sentimental importance on a decoration. He could sense the blooming fondness and warmth that Lance was feeling, but it registered to Keith as unnatural, unusual. Unknown. 

“Hey,” he said, hedging and quiet. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Shoot.” Lance stroked a delicate wooden deer, careful to keep the action out of sight from the shopkeep. 

Refusing to look at Lance, Keith frowned deeply at a spinning nativity. “...How do you Christmas shop?” That sounded stupid and wasn’t what he meant. “How do you figure out what someone would like, if you want to make sure you don’t...what if you want to...you know, convey your - if you’re not good at…” Helplessly, he shrugged. 

Lance unfolded, rising and turning so slowly, like the wooden windmills behind him. Keith couldn’t decipher the emotions that ran across his face before they settled on  _ helpful. _ “Have a special someone you’re shopping for?” 

Keith’s lower lip was starting to take a beating from where he was chewing on it, so he tried to relax his jaw. “I’ve never given gifts that mean anything. Kolivan always picked out the company gifts, and I don’t have any family. Pidge and I never do gifts. So I don’t have a clue where to start.” He scoffed and rubbed at his nose self-consciously. “That sounds so pathetic. Nevermind - forget I asked.” 

“No, wait!” Lance gripped both of Keith’s shoulders and shook him a little. “You need help buying gifts for  _ someone _ and I’m really good at Christmas shopping. I’m your assistant; let me help.” 

“Yeah. My assistant.” The smile Keith gave him was a little sad, a little wistful. “So where do you start?” 

"You'll get used to having me, eventually." Lance winked, stepping back. He surveyed the stalls around them. "Well, it helps to know the basic personality of the person you're buying for and a few of their interests. Can you tell me about them?" 

“Uh,” Keith stalled. Shit. “Friendly? Yeah. Really friendly and helpful. Likes...” Interests, interests. Keith snuck a quick glance at Lance, trying to think of something, and landed on his lion. “...Cats?” 

"Wow. Okay, that's not much to work with. Are you sure you know this person?" At Keith's distraught look, Lance backtracked, "No, it's fine, I can work with this. How about that one?" He pointed to a booth full of sparkling glass. There was someone off to the side making the ornaments live for a growing crowd. "I bet they make custom ones. You could get them a little figure of their cat." 

“I don’t...know if they have a cat.” Keith was panicking now. This had gone into territory he wasn’t prepared to control. He was a forthright guy, and subterfuge was not really in his skill set. The more he talked, the closer Lance would get to figuring it out. “What about just...something Christmasy? But. Special.” 

Lance took a moment to think, tapping his chin. "Hm, special and Christmas…" He snapped his fingers. "I got the perfect thing. One sec." Pulling up the map of the market on his phone he scanned the list of stalls until he found it. "This way." 

They walked around to the other side of the block until they were standing in front of a stall full of books, planners, and other stationery. "I got a set for my sister last year, you can customize them to make it special  _ and _ they're useful, so, everyone likes them," Lance said, gesturing grandly to the booth. 

Keith shifted his weight, feeling skeptical. Sure maybe Lance would “like” it, but it didn’t feel...ah well. It was better than just grabbing him a coffee mug or something. “That’s a good idea. Thank you.” Ugh and now Lance was standing right there. What was he going to do, send him away? That wouldn’t be obvious at all. Ugh. 

He stood there awkwardly, looking between Lance and the booth and the sky and generally hating the concept of Christmas and mandatory gift exchange. 

"Do you want me to help you pick something out?" Lance grabbed up one of the display planners that had fluffy cats playing with yarn. "Look, there's a cat one." He wiggled it at Keith. 

If the ground could just swallow him up now, that would be Keith’s favorite Christmas present. Instead, he took it from Lance with a mumbled thanks and moved to the register, calling over his shoulder. “Would you pick something out for Kris’ secretary? You two talk, and you know she loves this kind of animal-calendar thing.” 

"Who's assistant am I, anyway," Lance mumbled to himself as he went to do as Keith asked. He was back a moment later with a calendar of yoga goats. "Here. Mind if I do some shopping for my family while we're here?" 

“Of course not.” This time, Keith managed to give him a genuine smile. “Do you want me to come with you, or just wait for you here?” 

"You'll get bored waiting here. I have a big family." Lance grabbed Keith's bag of stationery goods and jerked his head to the street. "Let's explore." 

Lance bought a few nicknacks proclaiming how perfect each one would be for this or that person and naming them by name as if Keith would know who he was talking about. By the time they’d visited every stall once, Lance’s hands were full of bags and he had his lion tucked under one arm. 

“I’m starved.” 

Keith checked his watch and grimaced. It was definitely time for dinner, which meant it was time to face the music and go make obligatory small-talk with the smarmy douchebag who was also infuriatingly good at his job and infuriatingly good-looking. 

“Yeah…” He sighed through his nose. “Listen, you don’t deserve to go through this. You’ve been very helpful and I wouldn’t wish Lotor’s company on my worst enemy, which is funny, because that’s basically who he is.” Shit, he was rambling, but god, he didn’t want to go.

For more than one reason, actually. On the one hand, he obviously resented having to make nice with Lotor while he endured the same old compliments and veiled flirtations he’d been skirting for ages. Mostly, though, he didn’t want to leave. He was...actually having a really nice time. With Lance. 

“I mean.” Lance shuffled the bags around as the bundles slipped from his grasp. “If you want to be alone with him I could take an Uber home and eat some leftovers.”

“I do not, in any universe, want to be alone with Lotor.” Keith reached over and took some of Lance’s bags before he could protest. “I was just being nice and offering you one more chance to bail before you got locked in for good. But if you’re such a glutton for punishment, call the car.” 

“Punishment I’m not sure about, but glutton…” Lance fished for his phone and hit the speed dial for the driver. In a few minutes, because of the traffic, they were warm and snuggly amongst their prizes and presents in the back seat. 

The restaurant where Lotor had insisted on reservations was one of those fancy towers that rotated, giving 360 degree views of the city for the fashionably wealthy. The elevator ride up had mostly comprised of Keith debating just how to greet Lotor in a way that indicated Yes, I am your colleague and we have to work together but No, I will never put your dick in my mouth again. What did that look like? A handshake? Ugh. 

When the elevator door parted, it was on the champagne-upholstered expanse of a five-star restaurant, complete with a massive fish tank in the middle and a chandelier that probably cost more than most people made in their lifetimes. In many ways, it made Keith sick. He hated going places like this, where everything existed just to remind everyone how expensive it all ways. He always left grumpy and more than a little hungry. 

“Yuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Just look at this place. I could get, like, twenty five cheeseburgers at any drive-thru for the price of one salad here.” 

Lance’s eyes were wide as he watched the fish swim around their tank. He shifted, pulling on the hem of his coat, straightening it out. “Yeah, awful. Is filet mignon worth the hype? Do you think they have it?”

Something occurred to Keith - something formless and without words that snagged on a memory of Lance’s eyes and fond recollections. Immigrated, hadn’t had money for Christmas, privileged. He turned to the side and, without thinking, reached out and took Lance’s wrist. He stared at it as if it was not attached. 

“Hey,” he said. “Lotor or no Lotor, let’s make a night of it. We’ve worked really hard the past few weeks. Anything you want tonight - and I mean anything - you get it. Okay?” 

“Oh.” Lance stopped paying attention to the fish and joined Keith in looking down at their hands. “Thanks, I-” He cleared his throat and smiled. “Yeah, let’s have fun.” 

Keith gave him a little smile back. They stayed there for a moment before breaking apart as if both of them realized what they were doing.

“Do I look okay? I didn’t realize it was going to be this fancy.” Lance ran his hands down his coat.

“You’re asking the guy who washed his hair in the sink. You look fine. Kinda like a plucky reporter.” 

“Okay the first point was valid, the second point is unappreciated.” Lance shrugged off his coat so that he was only in his light blue button down. “Less reporter?”

“I like the plucky reporter look,” Keith mumbled before his eyes lit on a familiar head of platinum hair. “Let’s go, Lois Lane. Your filet mignon awaits.”

“You know, Clark Kent was a journalist, too,” Lance mumbled. 

Chuckling, Keith led them to their table that was situated in a semi-private room. Lotor rose and smiled at Keith, the smile freezing when he noticed Lance. 

“Ah...gentlemen,” he said smoothly. “Good of you to come. I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced, Mister…?”

Lotor held his hand out as Keith pulled Lance’s chair out for him - a move that Lotor did not miss. 

"Fuentes." Lance nodded at Keith as he sat, ignoring Lotor’s hand. He shuffled the chair forward and grabbed a menu. "Mr. Kogane is my ride, so I'm afraid I have to crash your dinner." 

“Not at all.” Lotor sat back down and turned his effortless smile on Keith. “You’re looking well, Keith.”

Keith looked from his menu up to Lotor and quickly back down. “Thanks. Have you had the salmon?” 

Once they had placed their drink orders after some deliberation, during which Keith had tried to subtly comfort Lance over the initial shock that the menu was both entirely in French and had prices they would have wept to see in college, Lotor turned his focus on Lance. 

“Tell me, Mr. Fuentes - what brought you to Blade?” 

Lance fiddled with one of the forks. “It’s a good company. Blade looks really good on a resume.” He shrugged. “What about you? Seems like a difficult task to try and beat Keith. I’ve never known him to come in second.”

“Yes, he is rather relentless in the pursuit of what he wants,” Lotor said mildly. 

Keith fiddled with his napkin. “Sitting right here.”

“However,” Lotor continued, “we are not in competition. Our job is to work together to ensure a strong future for Blade Incorporated.” 

Keith’s expression twisted in a way that simultaneously confirmed and denied that this was bullshit. “Right.” 

“But, only one of you will get to take over. So, eventually, someone has to be the winner.”

Keith shot him a look. What the hell was Lance pulling here? Was he trying to cause trouble? 

He opened his mouth to try and navigate this particular field of landmines Lance had so helpfully laid out for him, but Lotor beat him to the punch. 

“With the amount of work it entails, there may be some debate as to whether that constitutes ‘winning.’” His smile, as ever, was perfectly charming. His sharp eyes glanced to Keith, searching for something before he leaned a little further into Lance’s space. “But I will tell you a secret. Our Mr. Kogane can be pliant as a kitten under the right circumstances.” 

“That’s enough,” Keith snapped right as the waitress was placing down their breadbasket. She pulled it back, alarmed. He had to explain that no, it was a sufficient amount of bread, please put it back down, before she scuttled off and he very much needed a drink. Or for the whole damn restaurant to topple over. Either/or. 

Lance shrunk back in his seat. “Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be.” Lotor smirked over the rim of his champagne glass. “It’s such a treat seeing him flustered.” 

“Lance.” His assistant snapped to attention at Keith’s commanding tone. “What do you think you’d like to order?” 

He glanced down at the menu. “Uh, filet mignon. If- if they have it. And I wanted soup but- Bisque? Is that soup?”

“Yes,” Keith said, voice softening. He leaned over to look at Lance’s menu, pointing things out that he thought Lance might enjoy. All the while, he kept Lotor in his periphery, watching him watching them. 

Thank god Lance had come with, honestly, because Keith had about had it with Lotor’s continuous attempts to push them back into something more intimate. He’d never regretted anything the way he’d regretted those two nights in Miami. It was a complete failure on his part, both personally and professionally, and he’d been living with the repercussions ever since. There had been zero reason to let Lotor’s hands slide down his back, or to accept the drink, or the next, or to let himself get pulled away to dance. 

Even if it had been Christmas. 

Keith kept the conversation neutral long enough for their food to arrive. Lance’s expression alone when they brought his soup had been worth coming for, but as soon as he took his first bite of steak, Keith couldn’t stop himself from smiling. 

“So you’re a fan, huh?” he asked, spearing an asparagus. 

"Honestly, I didn't think there was food better than Cuban, but this is a close contender. Still not quite as good as my grandma's ropa vieja."

“That’s quite the compliment, and a charming sentiment.” Lotor smiled blandly. “I thought it perhaps a bit underwhelming tonight, wouldn’t you say, Keith?” 

Lance blushed and ducked his head, concentrating on eating. 

Keith glared at him. “I doubt anything beats a home cooked meal by a loved one.” 

“Hmm yes well you obviously know all about that, don’t you.” 

It was a miracle that Keith didn’t flip the table when he stood. As it was, he probably could have done a better job of controlling his temper, but damn it, this was getting out of hand. “You know, I think I’m going to get some air, it got awfully  _ stuffy  _ in here all of a sudden.” 

Lotor smirked, pleased that he’d finally gotten a rise out of him. “Shall I join you?” 

Keith’s expression was answer enough. 

He stalked away from the table, feeling a twinge of guilt for abandoning Lance, but it had been a long day and his nerves were shot. He passed the fish tank and the exquisite player piano, the bar with its crystal tumblers, the huge Christmas tree bedecked in silver and gold. Beyond that was the viewing room, which he had never set foot in, normally would never even  _ consider  _ setting foot in, but even unimaginable heights were preferable to looking at Lotor for another second.

The view was actually beautiful. Still, Keith preferred the one at the top of the Ferris wheel when his stomach was swooping for completely different reasons. The city glowed over the water in a neat skyline, the ocean a perfect black mirror reflecting the night. The way Lance’s ocean blue eyes had hours before. 

Keith leaned against the rail, forehead resting on the glass. 

"You warned me, but I didn't realize he was that bad,” Lance said next to him. 

Keith turned his head, but didn’t lift it from the forgiving cold against his skin. “He really is. I can’t believe he said that in front of you.” 

"I'm not going to lie. He said so many inappropriate things that I can't tell which one you're referring to." Lance bent over so his elbows were on the rail and his head was conspiratorially close. 

“Well, good, I guess,” Keith huffed. “No need to bring it up again.” 

He reached up and drew a star in the fog his breath had left behind. 

“I’m sorry, though, that you got dragged into it. I’m used to it, but you’re still new.” 

"We're a team now. I'm here to support you." Lance drew a tree under the star. "I'm sorry I didn't do a very good job of that. I think I made it worse.

Keith leaned back enough to look at their combined artwork. He tried and failed not to be charmed by Lance’s addition because of course, of fucking course, Lance had drawn a Christmas tree. 

“You didn’t,” he said softly. “Funny thing is, he wasn’t always this much of an ass. He’s generally a lot more personable than I am. I kind of wonder if he cared about me more than he let on, and he’s just not used to losing.” He put a few ornaments on their fog-breath tree. “Not like I can’t relate. Still not an excuse.” 

Lance was quiet as he stared at their tree. When Keith was about to ask if he was okay, Lance shook his head and grinned. "Let's forget about Lotor.  _ You _ didn't tell me that filet mignon was steak." 

Keith furrowed his brow in confusion. “Of course it’s steak, that’s the point, why would I have to specify? What the hell did you think it was?” 

"I dunno, I guess I thought it was…tiny, round, rich-people food. I don't really like steak." 

For a moment, Keith couldn’t reply. Then he burst out laughing. 

It wasn’t even objectively that funny, but he kept laughing, more as a release of tension than anything else, and also because of the way it made Lance grin. 

“Well honestly,” he said when it had hiccupped to a stop. “You’re not wrong. That’s exactly what filet mignon is.” 

It occurred to him then that they had both left their food cooling on the table, next to their equally chilly dinner companion. They really ought to go back. If he didn’t, he was bound to get an earful from Kolivan. 

Instead, he found himself blurting out, “Do you wanna get out of here and go to Costco?” 

Lance pressed his fingers to his chest in mock scandal. "Why Keith, are you asking me to eat friend-pizza and free samples?" 

“So many samples.” Keith grinned. “Even the granola.” 

"I'm so down." Lance paused. "Are we leaving Lotor with the bill?" 

“Hm?” Keith hummed, his wicked grin spreading. “Who’s Lotor?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: we should have a complete chapter count up soon. As we edit it we're finding the chapter breaks since we wrote it as one full long-ass story :3 If you're upset about Lotor's role, just think of them all as actors in a Hallmark film, it'll be fine
> 
> All the cool kids are doing it, give into the peer pressure [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a rumor going around that we can be found on twitter, click here to find out: [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

❄️❄️❄️

Keith walked in, placing a stack of papers on Lance's desk and not looking up from his planner. "I need these in by 10 AM and the report for STAR by 2 PM." He reached for his morning coffee that was always on the corner of Lance’s desk and found. Nothing. No coffee. He looked up at Lance, mouth open to ask where it was and. No Lance. 

He looked around, a frown creasing his forehead. 

"He's sick," Kolivan’s secretary - whatshername of the yoga goats calendar - said. 

Sick? The possibility had never crossed his mind. The flu was going around the office, sure, even Pidge had called out last week. But, Lance was always so energetic. Keith would have known if Lance was feeling under the weather…right? Snapping his planner closed, he strode into his office and booted up his laptop.

Sure enough, Keith checked his email and Lance had called out sick. 

_ Kierg, sorry.  _

_ I don think you put my number in phone _

_ I jace a fevver but I attached your sche dewl  _

_ -Lane Gurnfdrd _

Keith pursed his lips. That was disconcerting. He clicked the attached document and it was a blank excel sheet. It was enough to convince Keith that something was  _ very  _ wrong with Lance. In all the time that Lance had been his assistant he’d never been this sloppy. Not once. 

If he remembered correctly, Lance lived all alone. That meant that this person who was his direct employee was too sick to type and was taking care of himself. Keith imagined him delirious and hungry in bed as he prioritized typing out an email rather than resting. The decision was made for him. Keith quickly set up an out of office notification and canceled all his meetings for the day. He grabbed his keys and ran out of the office.

❄️❄️❄️

It wasn’t...a  _ bad  _ part of town, per se. It was just...an  _ old  _ part of town. That’s what Keith told himself anyway as he climbed the rickety outside stairs to the front door of Lance’s apartment building. “Apartment building” was generous; really, it was an old warehouse right by the bay that had been converted to apartments when most of the shipping migrated to the newer, more recently built docks. The air smelled like brine and tasted like brine and it was just so damp and cold. Keith wondered what had driven Lance to pick this particular spot, especially given how far it was from the office. He glanced over his shoulder at his car. It would...probably be fine. 

By the time he reached Lance’s apartment number, he felt awkward and was heavily reconsidering his impulses. Would Lance be glad to see him? Annoyed? He rang the buzzer and continued to catalog possible emotions he could be met with when - if - Lance actually opened the door. 

There was a sound of shuffling and then silence. 

Keith waited, but no one answered. Maybe Lance was sleeping and he was bothering him. 

A click, another, and a chain lock thunked against the door. "Keith?" a whispered voice cracked as the door opened. 

Lance looked miserable. The tops of his hair stuck out in random directions and his bangs were plastered to his forehead. He stood wrapped in a blanket with a wad of tissues in his hand as he blinked watery eyes in confusion. "You should be in a," Lance stopped, mouth opening and closing. He pinched his eyebrows as he tried to form the words, " _ meeting,  _ yeah, a meeting with Kolivan and Galra Motors, right now." 

Lance didn’t even look like he knew what day it was, let alone where Keith should be at that exact moment. Keith lifted the bags he was carrying by way of explanation. 

“Lotor is taking my place. I brought...let’s see. Soup, couple different kinds, and tissues and - well, a lot of medicine, since I didn’t actually know what you’re sick with. And tea.” He glanced back up from assessing the contents of the bags. “Hi.” 

"Not, 'Hi'. You shouldn't be here, Lotor…" Lance swayed, grabbing the door for balance. He groaned, closing his eyes. "M'gonna lay down." He didn't even close the door as he shuffled over to a couch full of pillows and stuffed animals. A tissue box sat next to a large bowl on the floor with a plastic bag full of used tissues inside. A damp rag hung limply off the side of the bowl. Lance threw the wad of tissues he was holding into the bag and put the rag on his forehead as he flopped into the couch. 

Keith helped himself inside, deciding that today was not the day to waffle about niceties. Instead, he looked around to get his bearings and locate the kitchen. It wasn’t difficult; the whole apartment was essentially right there in one open room, since they had evidently decided that the fewer walls they could construct when converting from warehouse to living space, the better. It was homey, though. The little kitchenette and hazy window were full to bursting with plants. Keith made a mental note of that as he placed his bags on the table, rummaging around in the few cabinets there were to find a saucepot and a...another saucepot. He didn’t feel like digging for a tea kettle. 

While hot water began to boil, he ripped open a new box of tissues - the kind he liked with the cooling aloe - and dug out an assortment of boxes which he carried over to Lance. “Alright, tell me what hurts,” he commanded while stuffing stray tissues into the bag and replacing it with a new one. 

"M'fine. Don' worry about me." Lance rolled over, burying his face into the back of the couch. "Why are you here?" his already scratchy voice was muffled by cushions. 

Keith tugged at his sleeve and forced Lance to come out enough that Keith could smile at him, small but indulgent. “Because I  _ am  _ worried about you. You’ve taken care of everything for me for weeks. Let me return the favor at least a little bit.” As Lance opened his mouth to protest, Keith placed a finger against his lips, cutting him off. “Ah-ah. I know it’s your job, but you’ve also fussed at me plenty to ‘open up’ and ‘get to know people’ and all that, so just know that I’m here as your friend,” and look, he’d even managed to make that sound smooth and not heart-poundingly awkward, “certainly not as your boss. Now.” He moved his hand up to the cloth, reaching down to re-wet and wring it out before dabbing it along Lance’s sweaty cheeks. “Will you tell me what’s wrong so we can get some medicine in you, or are you going to make me play doctor?” 

Lance snorted out a laugh that turned into a cough. "Play doctor? Good thing I'm already naked then." He tried to wink but ended up blinking both eyes and once they were closed, he was too tired to open them. "I think it's just a cold. I'll be fine in a few days. My fever already went down." 

It was a mistake coming, Keith could see that now. Lance was miserable and probably embarrassed to be seen like this, and Keith had been entirely too presumptuous, was probably making him uncomfortable with his presence. He replaced the cloth, fighting down the color in his cheeks from a number of unnamed emotions and stood, stiff and straight. 

“As soon as the water is done boiling, I’ll get out of your hair.” 

"What water?" Lance's stomach growled, loud and angry. He moaned, curling into a ball. "Sorry, I haven't eaten. I should…" He tried to sit up, eyes still squeezed shut. The rag fell into his lap and the blanket he was wearing slipped off one shoulder as he swayed. "Nevermind." Lance let gravity pull him back down. 

“Hey.” Concern won out over anything else and Keith dove in, tucking the blanket back up like a gentleman,  _ dammit, Keith take your hand away _ , and putting the rag back. “I’m heating up soup and tea. And Theraflu, if you want it. Let’s get you fed at least.” The guttural sound of water boiling drew his attention. “I’ll be right back.” 

The next few minutes were spent very much concentrating on making soup and not at all thinking of Lance, flushed and sweaty, naked from the waist up. Only the occasional pitiful whimpering sound made Keith squash his thoughts firmly back into the realm of the platonic. When he returned, it was with a bowl of chicken noodle soup from the deli Lance liked next to the office and a chipped mug of heavily-honeyed tea. 

“Can you sit up for me?” he asked as he settled on the floor by the couch. 

"Mn." Lance cracked an eye open and sighed. "That smells amazing." He looked down at himself, tangled in the blanket, then down at the floor. In a snap decision of laziness, he slid off the couch butt-first and landed in a sitting position. The blanket was still tangled around his legs, the end of it trailing behind him on the couch. His bare torso exposed, he shivered as he held out his hands. 

He really shouldn’t have been surprised, but Keith still stared, barely managing not to spill the soup on them both. “You’re a mess,” he chided as he handed it over, and it came out sounding very different than the stern teasing he had intended. Softer. Fond. “If you don’t keep that blanket on, I’ll have to go through your closet and find you a sweater and god knows what you’ve got in there.” 

Lance shrugged. "Clothes." His stomach growled as he blew on the soup. He sipped it and moaned, "Mmm, this feels so good on my throat." He took a few more sips before tugging the blanket back over his shoulders. "Thanks," he said into his bowl. 

“Don’t-” Keith stuttered and cleared his throat. “Don’t mention it. Now eat.” 

"Hey, Keith?" 

“Yeah?” 

"Can you stay for a while?" Lance didn't look up from his food. 

The warmth that bloomed in Keith’s chest definitely reached his eyes and smile. “Yeah. Long as you want me to. But  _ eat _ , okay?” 

Nodding, Lance shoveled soup into his mouth. Keith made sure he ate all of it. 

"It's hot," Lance said, shrugging the blanket off. "I'm dying." 

“Okay,” Keith agreed, trying for soothing. “What can I do to stop your demise? New cloth? Cold shower?” He leaned forward and placed the back of his hand against Lance’s cheek and frowned. “You’re burning up. Where’s your thermometer?” 

"Don't have one," Lance said between chattering teeth. He pulled his blanket back around him. "It's cold." 

Now Keith was frowning deeply. For anyone to have a fever that fluctuated that severely meant it may very well be emergency-room grade. “Okay. Hey. Let’s get back on the couch, and then I want you to take some medicine to bring that fever down. If it doesn’t break, I’m going to take you to the hospital. C’mon, up we go.” Times like this he was grateful for being a gym rat, as it was surprisingly easy to hoist Lance up by the armpits. 

"No, I don't like hospitals." Lance did his best to help Keith but his muscles gave out as his butt hit the couch. "You said you were going to be my doctor." 

Keith had to lower down Lance’s dead weight so his head didn't hit the arm of the couch. It didn't look fluffy, or that comfortable. 

Well okay. 

If he thought about it any longer he wouldn’t do it, so Keith made an executive decision to scoop Lance back up. His skin was clammy and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and his eyes, when they looked at Keith, weren’t their usual bright, clever blue. Keith carried him, bridal style, to the one single adjacent room. His guess was right, and the small room was mostly made up of bed with room for a single set of drawers against the window. He laid Lance down in the rumpled covers, wincing at the way his skin practically unpeeled from Keith’s dress shirt. Next step was getting him a fresh cool cloth. 

“There,” he said. “Get comfortable. I’ll be right back, alright?” 

Lance grabbed at Keith's hand, preventing him from walking away. "I don' feel good," he whined. 

“I know.” Keith’s heart broke at how pathetic Lance sounded, how small and frail. He was usually so effervescent; seeing him like this was sad. He smoothed a hand over Lance’s sweaty, ruffled hair. “I’m gonna help, but we’ve got to get that fever down. I swear I’ll come right back and then I won’t move again, okay?” Before Lance could protest, Keith squeezed his hand and left. True to his word, he was back within the minute with Lance’s forgotten tea, a new bowl of ice water, the cloth, and a handful of pills. 

“Okay. Take these and tell me where you want me.” 

Grunting, Lance sat up, taking the pills and tea from Keith. He swallowed them obediently and handed back the tea. 

Keith took it and placed it on the only flat surface in the room, which happened to be the dresser. 

Lance picked at the blue sheets, eyes unfocused. "My mom would pet my head when I got sick." 

With a quiet, amused snort, Keith took off his shoes and tie, unbuttoning his collar and crawling in behind Lance. “Guess we’re putting substitute mother on my CV. That way, when Kolivan fires me, I can apply to daycare.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Lance scooted over so Keith had room on the small twin. 

Once Keith was settled with his back to the headrest and Lance’s head in his lap, he wrung some water from the cold washcloth and used it to smooth Lance’s hair back from his forehead over and over again. “Better?” 

“Mm.” Lance hugged a small shark and leaned into Keith’s lap. “I think you get to put it on your CV.” 

Keith smiled down at him and settled back. That was when he noticed they weren’t alone on the bed or in the room. Bears, rabbits, penguins and all sorts of softly colored animals were piled in every corner of the room. He booped a blue puppy that was flopped next to him on its plastic nose. “You really do have a ton of stuffed animals. I was joking, but wow.” Keith abandoned the cloth in favor of just combing his own fingers through Lance’s hair. “Think you can sleep for me soon?” 

“Love animals, but ‘m allergic to fur,” Lance said, his words slurring together. “So, I got stuffed animals and plants. Makes me feel less alone.” He leaned into Keith’s fingers. “Everythin’ hurts, but that feels good.” 

Less alone. It never occurred to Keith that Lance might be lonely. He was always surrounded by people, drew them to him with his natural magnetism. 

“You’re here jus’ as a friend, right?” Lance blinked glassy eyes up at Keith. 

Keith startled a bit at that. Was he? He certainly had never done this for anyone else in his life, had never felt compelled to care so damn much. When he’d heard that Lance was sick, he hadn’t even thought twice about potential consequences - just got in his car and left. Keith was impulsive, sure, but he was even taking himself by surprise at this point. 

He looked down and studied the handsome face in his lap. “Not here as your boss, that’s for sure,” he said. Then, summoning all his courage and hoping, unfairly perhaps, that the fever would blur the strangeness of it for Lance, he bent forward and pressed a kiss to Lance’s overwarm brow. 

"Do I still have a fever?" 

“Yeah.” The word was whispered against Lance’s skin. 

Lance yawned and closed his eyes, pulling the sheet under his chin. "G'night, not-boss." His breathing evened out after a few coughs. 

So Keith was evidently staying here tonight, and it wasn’t even two in the afternoon yet. He reached around to unbutton his cuffs and then tried to settle more comfortably. 

He was almost asleep himself when Lance mumbled, "Wish it was real." 

❄️❄️❄️

Keith was still upright, propped against the headboard with a lapful of Lance, when the pounding started. Well - it was less pounding and more insistent knocking, but it was probably just workers on the wharf or something. It was warm. He was stiff, but nothing was going to make him give up this last moment of being able to hold Lance before it got awkward. Nothing. 

Besides, he’d done plenty of work yesterday. He’d snuck out to the living room to work while Lance was napping, woken Lance for dinner, checked that his fever was down, worried that he’d been sleeping so much, figured it was probably fine, Googled if it was probably fine, and eventually resumed his position behind Lance for the night. He could afford to doze. 

“ _ Mijo _ !” yelled a plump little woman with a mass of brown curls as she barged into the bedroom. “You were not answering the phone!” 

Like he said, nothing could make him give up holding Lance.

Except maybe that. 

"Mami, go away." Lance snuggled deeper into Keith's lap, pulling the covers over his head. "M'sleeping." 

Keith froze. “... _ Mommy? _ ” he repeated. “I’m sorry, this is your-?” 

“This worthless boy’s mother, yes.” She scooted around the side of the bed and held out her hand to Keith as if this was the most natural thing to encounter. “Yelena.” 

“Uh.” Keith said, taking her hand. “...Keith.” 

“Oh!” Yelena’s pretty eyes, the same cornflower blue as her son’s, opened in recognition. “The lonely boy! You were right,  _ mijo,  _ he  _ is  _ handsome.” 

"Ma!" Lance threw the covers off of his very naked torso and sat up. He swayed, putting a hand on Keith's knee for balance. "Why are you here?” 

Yelena huffed and put her hands on her hips. “To check on my ungrateful son who calls his mami, begging 'Mami, bring food, I’m  _ dying _ ’ and then does not answer his phone or his door. Now I have food and you call me for no reason because you have someone already. I could have stayed home, but now I am here, so you will take a shower and eat. You make this poor man sleep like a child in timeout, so  _ I  _ will make him coffee.” She smiled at Keith then and patted his shoulder. “Come.” 

Keith looked at Lance, terror-struck and deeply confused. 

Lance leaned in and whispered, "Sorry about this, but it's best to do what she says. Trust me." Lance stood up and stretched. "Good luck." He grabbed a towel hanging off the headboard and closed the door to the bathroom. 

In the ten minutes it took Lance to rinse off, Yelena had a plate of breakfast and a pot of coffee on his rickety little kitchen table. Keith was sitting at it, staring at his eggs and toast as if it was going to attack him. Yelena pressed a cup of coffee into Lance’s damp hands as he wandered in, tapping her cheek pointedly. 

He bent down and kissed it with a, "Thanks, Mami." Lance sat down, taking a sip of his coffee and sighing. "Did you bring me your world famous picadillo?" 

Lance's hair was damp and still dripping. The strong scent of soap and mint drifted across the table. If anyone asked, Keith did not breathe in deeper, holding Lance's scent in his nose. Nope. 

"Who do you think I am, mijo?" She swatted at Lance. "I have it heating on the stove now." 

Lance cupped his coffee so it wouldn't spill. "You're the best, Mami." 

For the sake of grasping at normalcy, because how in the world did he get here, Keith turned to Lance and looked him over. “How are you feeling?” 

"Better." Lance rubbed his forehead, staring into middle space. "I'd probably be worse if it weren't for you." 

Trying to lower his voice, Keith leaned toward Lance and murmured, “Any reason she called me ‘the lonely boy’ that you care to expand on?” 

Lance sputtered and coughed. "Wow. What's that? You need help in the kitchen?" He put his mug down, coffee splashing onto the table. Lance spoke swift Spanish at his mom as he left. Which wasn’t very far since the table was right next to the tiny area trying to pass itself off as a kitchen. Their conversation continued around Keith, progressively more irritated-sounding, though never beyond the bickering of people who obviously loved each other enough to bicker. 

Finally, Yelena turned to look at Keith and demanded, “You did not ask?  _ Still? _ ” With a huff, she crossed over to Keith and put her hands on his shoulders. “My son doesn’t think. You will come to Christmas, yes? 

“I’m sorry, what?” Keith turned, utterly lost. 

“I’m too sick for this.” Lance slumped into the chair, pulling one leg up onto the seat and turned wary eyes on Keith. All the energy from a night’s rest and a good shower were gone. “Keith, please say yes or I’ll get swatted. Will you come over for Christmas? Not here, of course. My mom’s house.” 

“ _ What? _ ” He stood up and was promptly pushed back down into his chair. Yelena came around in front and smiled at him. 

“My son, he talks of  _ nothing  _ but you - ‘Keeitth, he is so hard worrrking, he’s so niiiiice, he smells so gooood’ and I say we should meet you! And this is how I finally meet you? Ridiculous.” 

“I did not say that!” Lance turned to Keith. “Don’t listen to her I didn’t say that, oh my God.” His face turned a red Keith didn’t think was humanly possible. “<i> _ Mami</i>,” _ Lance said between his teeth, “<i> _ Tumba eso; me estas avergonzando _ </i>.” He sunk lower into his chair, apologizing to Keith with his eyes. “This is my  _ boss _ from  _ work _ , so could we try to not get me fired?” 

“Why would I fire you for saying I smell good?” Now Keith couldn’t help the teasing, innocent smile. “It’s a compliment, right?” 

“ _ Si _ , and the whole family wants to meet you. Dinner is at 6 on Christmas Eve. Now, both of you, eat. Lance, why aren’t you eating?” 

Lance shoveled two spoonfuls of stew into his mouth. “I’m eating, I’m eating,” he said around his food. Swallowing, he snuck a glance at Keith, eyebrows quirked in confusion. 

Keith wasn’t eating. Keith was...thinking. Thinking and frowning. The frown kept getting deeper and was only saved from being a full-on grimace by the ringing of his phone. He dug it from his pocket and his shoulders slumped a little. “Kogane,” he said as he answered, non-verbally excusing himself with a vague wave and a mouthed ‘Sorry.’ 

Twenty minutes later, when he returned, it looked as if Lance and his mother were clearly trying to look busy. Obviously he had walked in on them talking about him, again. Keith had no idea what to feel about that, but at the moment, he didn’t have he luxury. 

“Hey,” he said apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta get back to the office. I can come back tonight if you need…?” 

No and yes were answered simultaneously. 

" _ No _ ," Lance said more forcefully, glaring at his mom. He looked back at Keith and stood. "I'm feeling better thanks to you. Concentrate on the financial asset meeting; Tom is going to need your approval on the liability budget. I'll try to be there tomorrow." 

Torn, Keith eventually nodded and grabbed his coat. He smiled at Lance’s mom.

“Good to meet you,” he said with a nod. 

She smiled brightly back. “See you on Christmas!”

He had no idea what to do with that except try to keep smiling as he ducked out the door to the sound of Lance’s prolonged groan. 

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Lance was back at work and wearing Keith’s red scarf as he handed over a cup of morning coffee. He avoided eye contact as he mumbled, “I got you pumpkin spice today.” At least Lance was looking healthy, with a red glow to his cheeks and shining eyes, no longer glassy with fever. 

Looking up from his computer, Keith smiled as he accepted the cup. “Welcome back. You look like you feel better?” Keith likely didn’t; he’d gotten an earful for disappearing, and had spent the last two days pulling late nights to get back on track. 

“Yeah. Thanks, by the way. Also, about my mom…” Lance shifted, playing with Keith’s nameplate, still not looking up. 

“Don’t mention it.” Keith took the nameplate from him and placed it back down. “And your mother is very nice, and her offer was very generous. Don’t bother apologizing for whatever you’re about to apologize for.” 

“But…” Lance bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth, then sighed. Apparently giving up on that line of conversation, he unwrapped the scarf around his neck and held it out. “I brought it back; forgot to give it to you the other night.” 

“Oh.” Eyeing it, Keith reached forward, started to draw his hand back, then let it fall. “Keep it. It looks better on you.” 

It was strange, now that they were both back in the office. It felt as if they hadn’t spent a regular day at work since before the ice skating event, and everything since then had been a huge breach of professionalism on Keith’s part. It seemed as if Lance was struggling to get them back to their original footing, and if that was what he wanted… 

“Lance.” Keith folded his hands and leaned forward in his chair. “Listen. If I’ve overstepped any boundaries in the last few days, I apologize. My intention was not to make you uncomfortable. I understand that showing up unannounced was unprofessional and I just...wanted to be sure you knew that your job here is very secure. It seems like you bring up being hypothetically fired every other conversation.” He flicked his gaze up from where it had been studying his pen holder. “You’re a good worker, and Blade is lucky to have you.  _ I’m _ -“ He stopped, biting back the words before they tumbled out. “Grateful. For, uh. Everything. You do.” 

“I…” Lance tensed, twisting the scarf in his hands, then, realizing what he was doing, smoothed it back out. “You’re not the kind of person I thought you were when I started. I appreciate it, and I would really like it if you came over for Christmas, even if you just stopped by. I promise I’ll talk to my mom so she doesn’t…  _ that _ again.” Lance finally met his eyes. “Maybe, we could try and be friends off the clock.” 

Keith relaxed a little, but his voice came out decidedly more wistful than he’d intended. Almost, well, sad. “I thought we already were.” 

“I’m your assistant. You pay me to be nice to you. I mean like…” Lance looked down at the scarf and ran his thumb over it. “Hang out when you’re not paying me to carry your bags or pick out gifts for your boss’s secretary.” 

“I don’t  _ pay  _ you to be  _ nice  _ to me.” Keith stood, bringing his hands down on the desk. He could feel his temper bubbling up and he knew, he  _ knew  _ he should bite it back, but the hurt was already blazing and if he didn’t sharpen it to a point... “My assistant is required to be organized and helpful, not to pretend to be nice or spend time with me out of financial obligation. Or worse,  _ pity _ , given the words you’ve apparently used to describe me to your family.” He could hear Lance’s mother again, the sweet, offhanded way she’d said it; Oh, the lonely boy! 

Right. As if he’d ever been or would be anything else. But he certainly didn’t need the company  _ paying  _ someone to pretend to enjoy his company. 

Lance’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as he stared at Keith. Blue eyes flashed as he came out of his shock. "I don't pity you, I  _ envy you _ . And my mom was right, I do talk about you a lot, because I think you're cool and smart and I told her you were this  _ lone wolf _ trying to take down Lotor and I get to help you. So, excuse me for wanting to spend time with you when I'm not working so that I don't have to act all organized and helpful. I can relax and be forgetful and snarky." 

The fire drained from his veins as quickly as it had flared up. Keith stood there in confusion, trying to process what he’d heard and what he was feeling. With a frustrated sigh, he sank back into his chair and took a sip of his coffee. “I’m so bad at people,” he said to his cup before taking another sip and grumbling, “...this is really fucking good.” 

"That's my job." Lance's eyes turned to ice as his smile froze. "Well, it's a good thing you don't have any meetings today. Actually, the first thing on your schedule is--" 

A bell went off to call everyone into the main office. "That. Let's go Mr. Bad at People, it's time for you to practice those skills." 

“Lance.” 

Keith stood from his chair so quickly it went rolling back a few inches. He crossed in front of the desk and grabbed Lance’s wrist before he could leave. 

Lance half turned, eyes flicking down to his wrist and up at Keith. He opened his mouth but Keith cut him off, “Have dinner with me. Tonight. Off the clock?” 

“Oh.” Lance looked like a deer caught in the headlights, blinking up at him. He swallowed. “Do you mean-?” 

“It’s not an order or anything,” Keith clarified quickly. “Just a request. But yes - I would love to spend more time with you.” The admission burned on his cheeks. 

A small, hesitant smile warmed Lance’s face. “Okay, tonight. Yeah, I can do that.” 

A knock at the door made them jump apart. “Hey, Keith, everyone’s waiting on you,” Pidge called through the door. 

“Right, the competition.” Lance cleared his throat and motioned to the door. “You’re hosting.” 

The reminder that he had actual duties to fulfill that day outside of tackling the backup of paperwork made Keith groan. “ _ Why.  _ There has to be someone else to do this. If I am the only one cleared to make decisions on the Balmera account, no progress is being made if I’m wasting my time watching my coworkers stick cookies together. Why doesn’t Lotor get assigned to any of this bullshit?” 

"Because I signed you up. Well, Pidge did, but I encouraged it." Lance opened the door as Pidge was mid-knock. "Isn't that right?" 

She frowned. "If you're trying to make me take sides in one of your coffee fights again, I'm going to shove the coffee--" 

"No, that you signed Keith up for hosting." 

"Oh yeah, that was totally me." Pidge smirked at Keith. "Your yearly payment for keeping your search history secret." 

Glaring at them both, Keith - very lightly - body checked Pidge on the way out. “You act like I have time to look at anything fun,” he grumbled. 

Pidge’s smirk as Keith stormed past turned suspicious when she caught sight of Lance. It narrowed into a squint. “Why do you both look like you got caught doing something you shouldn’t, and why wasn’t I invited to whatever it was?” 

“I don’t know what just happened. Ask me tomorrow.” Lance said, cheeks stained red and looking up at the ceiling. He shook his head. “I need to get my game face on, you’re going down. Get ready to eat the crumbs of your labor.” 

The annual gingerbread house building competition was one that Keith usually skipped unless Pidge pulled tricks like this to make him participate. The whole office was gathered, some wearing festive sweaters for the event while others wore office-provided reindeer headbands with bells. 

A table full of everything they needed to build their tasty houses (not really, they were mass produced and tasted like spicy cardboard) was lined up on one side of the biggest conference room. Lance and Pidge abandoned Keith to gawk over the ingredients and fight over who was going to build the biggest and best house. To make things even better, Lotor slid next to Keith as soon as he’d entered the room. 

“Good of you to join us,” he said smoothly, fishing a piece of paper from his jacket. “I took the liberty of getting the team list for you, since you were late.” 

Keith took the paper with as much grace and gentility as he could manage, schooling his features into a bland smile. “Appreciated.” 

Lotor’s answering smile was charming in all the ways that made Keith’s skin crawl these days. “Anything for you. Including forgiving you for leaving dinner.” 

Well, very much time to do anything other than acknowledge  _ that.  _ “Alright, everybody, let’s get things going,” Keith began, resisting the urge to say  _ and over with quickly so we can stop dicking around with Christmas and get back to our actual work day.  _

He unfolded the paper from Lotor and read off the instructions. “The same amount of materials will be provided per team. Contestants will have twenty minutes to assemble their houses. Everything must be freestanding to qualify. Judging is 50% aesthetics, 50% creativity, and will be provided by Sue, Don, and Jeanette.” The three people in question, all older and members of the PR department, waved at the polite applause. Keith congratulated himself on not rolling his eyes. “Finally, teams. Team number one…” The first five teams were all members from departments he very rarely interacted with, and it struck him that a month or so ago, it would not have bothered him to not recognize the members. Now he felt a little guilty for being unable to match names to faces for most of the people he announced. 

“Team number six: Pidge, Adam, and Allura.” He read that with a little bit of smug satisfaction as he watched the color flood up to Pidge’s face when she met eyes with a brightly smiling Allura. He knew very well that while Pidge could get on his case all day for being bad at people, Pidge was just as awkward about expressing her feelings, especially when it came to the years-long crush she’d harbored on their pretty head of Human Resources. 

“And finally - uh.” Because of fucking course. “Myself, Lance, and…” Because of fucking  _ course.  _ “Lotor.” 

Lotor hummed from beside him and gave him a calculating, handsome smile. “Looking forward to merging our best attributes once again.” 

Who was in charge of this? Was it random? It had better be random, because if someone had purposefully done this, Keith was going to fire them. Yesterday. He sought out Lance and at least felt justified that his assistant was having as much difficulty deciding what expression to wear as Keith himself was. 

“Alright. Your stations are marked. Take five minutes to gather only what is listed on your cheat sheet.” 

He watched Lance shrug and move to gather ingredients. Keith did his best to ignore Lotor as he picked the closest empty table to sit at. Lotor sat down with a flourish and leaned into Keith's personal space. 

"Want to make this more interesting?" 

Keith crossed his arms, watching Lance. “No.” 

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” Lotor ran his hand up Keith’s knee to his thigh and squeezed. “I get you for the night if we win, if we lose you can do whatever you want with me.” 

Keith narrowed his eyes and swatted Lotor’s hand away. “Does that include firing you?” 

“I love it when you’re feisty.” He got closer and whispered, “Like that night.” 

Lance slammed a can of frosting on the table and Lotor sat back with a grin. 

“Here’s our supplies,” Lance said, voice flat and eyes narrow. 

“Ohthankgod.” He sat for an extra minute, wondering why nothing was happening, before a nudge from Lance reminded Keith that he was, in fact, the MC for this stupidity. Standing, he looked around for - what were their names - the old people. “Are you all set for timing?” he asked them, and at the affirmative, he said, “Okay. Twenty minutes. Go.” And then sat back down, looking expectantly at Lance and ignoring Lotor altogether. 

Lance picked up the instruction sheet and scanned it over. Lotor grabbed a side of house and scoffed. “Such low quality. Couldn’t we have gotten these from that French bakery downtown instead? I don’t know why we always go with that stupid Yellow Lion place.” 

“Go ask Kolivan. I’m sure he’d love to hear your opinion on the quality, especially since it’s owned by his good friend’s son.” Keith couldn’t help the childish little sneer as he took a big bite of chimney - and hey, it actually didn’t taste like spicy cardboard. It was really pretty good. Still not good enough to sweeten his sour mood as he scooted closer to Lance and mumbled, “Why did you do this to me. Why?” 

"I didn't make the teams." Lance put the paper down and looked around. Pidge was helping Allura piece together two walls, their heads close as they giggled. "We're wasting time," he said louder, "let's make the stupid house." 

They made the stupid house. Lotor was surprisingly content to sit there and hold walls together while the icing dried, spending his time watching Keith and Lance with laser-focused eyes. Between Lance’s creativity and Keith’s - well, nothing, really, he had very little to contribute, but he did make a little garden path out of Twizzlers - they managed to at least construct a freestanding dwelling. That alone netted them fourth place. First went to Pidge and Allura, who had deconstructed their walls to make some kind of highrise. 

“Show off,” Keith muttered around a gumdrop, which he promptly regretted eating. How did they even classify that as edible, ugh. 

“Well, gentlemen, it’s been an honor.” Lotor stood and smiled brightly at Lance. “I hope to see more of you around, Mr. Fuentes. I so enjoyed your company at dinner the other night.” 

“If Keith’s there, I’m not far behind.” Lance grinned as he ripped off a chunk of Twizzler, showing his teeth. 

“So it would seem.” The once-over Lotor gave him was unabashedly calculating, and Keith essentially began dragging Lance away by the wrist before he realized that was A. highly unprofessional and B. he still needed to close out. “Okay so - thank you everyone for coming, congratulations to the winners, please enjoy the coffee and donuts outside compliments of The Yellow Lion.” It was out in almost one breath as he made a direct beeline to the elevator for the top floor. 

Lance, as he had said, wasn’t far behind, and he could clearly tell by the clench of Keith’s jaw that the gingerbread house competition hadn’t left him feeling particularly holly-jolly. 

“Um.” Lance hesitated, as they waited for the elevator. “What did Lotor say to you back there?” 

“Oh, you know,” Keith shrugged, mashing the “up” button two more times. “Just his usual smarmy flirting. It isn’t even that he’s doing anything - well, no, I’ll stop there, it’s incredibly unprofessional - but what gets to me is that...that  _ I  _ once made the mistake of…ugh.” 

"Woah, hey." Lance put his hand on Keith's to calm his pushing. "What you did or didn't do with Lotor isn't a reflection of you as a person. And, if Lotor is doing something to you that's inappropriate we should do something about it. This is a workspace." 

Keith sighed and turned, leaning his back to the wall so he was essentially caged in between the marble and Lance. “If I marched down to HR and told them the things he says to me, he’d be gone within the hour. I know that. But that...look, call me crazy, but that’s not how I want him to go down. I’ve worked too hard going neck and neck with him to resort to that. He’s efficient, but he’s an asshole, and that’s not what this company is about.” He ran a hand through his combed-back hair, fingers snagging when he forgot he was wearing a ponytail. “Fuck.” Yanking his hair tie loose, he finally looked up at Lance, his lips a thin line. “I just want the satisfaction of beating him with my own skills on a level playing field. You know?” 

"Yeah, and you will." Lance's hand ran up Keith's arm, gliding up the soft silk of his shirt. "You're going to do so well on the STAR project, Lotor won't know what hit him." His hand stopped when his fingers bumped into the ends of Keith's hair. Lance's eyes were following his hand, but now, as his fingers intertwined into soft strands, he locked eyes with Keith. "Then you'll take over the company and be the leader they deserve." Lance stepped closer, so that Keith really was pinned to the wall. 

Suddenly, it was really,  _ really  _ hot in the building. Keith’s eyes snapped up to meet Lance and locked on him, widening just a little as he leaned in closer. He could feel the heat of Lance’s whole body this close, and from here, he was covered in more freckles than Keith had ever realized. Like - like stars, like snowflakes - and he was so damn handsome and that was so inconvenient. Keith had a dozen things he could have said to that, but his traitorous lips parted and his eyes lowered and he said, “And...you’ll be there with me?” 

"I've been chasing you since college; I'm not giving up now." Lance tugged on Keith's hair as he leaned in. He looked at Keith through half lidded eyes and his breath puffed softly against Keith's lips. "I already said I won't ever be very far behind you and someday-" Lance pushed a stray strand of hair behind Keith's ear. "I'll catch up." 

“Lance…” Keith wet his lips, tilted his head up, closed his eyes - 

And startled when the loud DING sounded that announced the arrival of the elevator. 

Lance sighed. "Tonight." He stepped back and held the elevator door for Keith. "I need to sort out the files for tomorrow, so I probably won't see you until then. But if you need me, just text." 

“I-” Keith said, before getting half-swallowed up in the rush of people exiting. He sort of back-peddled into the empty elevator, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and raised a hand in an awkward little wave. “Uh - yep, yeah, okay. Bye. Lance.” 

Lance gave him a two finger salute as the doors slid shut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: uwu love some keith taking care of sick lance and some awkward family, i love this chapter so much it's one of my favesssss i hope you enjoyed it! /o/
> 
> What we talk and interact with you on twitter while screaming about klance?!?!? amazing! [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A touch of smut is at the end once they finish dinner :3 enjoy
> 
> Do you want to get us a present for the holidays??? a twitter follow is free and makes us really happy!! [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

❄️❄️❄️

Pidge typed at her stand up desk covered in pop figs as Keith paced the floor. Her team was on lunch. They’d all been too hungover from eating her gingerbread house to get any actual work done. 

“But - look, all I was trying to do was reassure him that I do want to be his friend, right? I mean...friends eat? Right? You and I used to go get pizza at Costco. Hell, I took him to get pizza at Costco!” Keith stopped and threw Pidge an annoyed glance. “Stop typing, start helping.” 

The clacking paused as Pidge’s tousled head looked out from the tower of figures. “So you asked him to get Costco pizza? That’s kinda not cool, Keith.” 

“What?” Keith made a face. “No, I just asked him out for dinner. I didn’t even have a place in mind. I just blurted it out because he looked so upset. But I think...now I think he might think it’s a date?” 

“Well, is it?” Pidge rested her chin on her elbow. “What did you say? _ Exactly _.” 

“Uh.” Keith’s brow pinched as he thought. “Have dinner with me? Tonight? Off the clock?” 

"Give me strength, I'm friends with a moron." Pidge came out from behind her desk and leaned against it. "Keith. Lance doesn't think it's a date because he's overreacting. He thinks it's a date because you asked him on one." 

“But I didn’t!” Keith spluttered. “I...oh god, I _ did. _Oh fuck. I asked my assistant on a date.” 

“Finally, he gets it.” Pidge looked down, nose scrunching her glasses up to her eyebrows. It was her _ ‘I’m thinking’ _ face. Keith waited patiently until she looked up again, whatever calculation she was making complete. “Is it really all that bad? I mean, besides the fact that he’s your assistant. What I’m trying to ask is do you _ want _to go on a date with Lance?” 

“I,” he said. 

Did he? Lance was handsome, God was he handsome, and funny. Smart. Quick. Hard-working. He wasn’t at all like Keith had assumed back in college. He was kind. Thoughtful. Still handsome. 

“Fuck,” he decided. “Yes.” 

“Then,” Pidge said, shutting down her computer. “We’re going to have to find you something to wear.” 

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**Keith: **(5:35) I forgot to ask - anything in particular you don’t like to eat? 

(5:35) Not a big fan of steak 

**Keith: **(5:36)You don’t say. Seafood? 

(5:39) Seafood is good ;) 

**Keith: **(5:40) Why are you winking about seafood 

**Keith: **(5:40) Nevermind. I’ll pick you up at 7 

(5:41) ;)

❄️❄️❄️

This was okay, right? No, this was definitely not okay. Lance was going on a date with his boss and that had to break so many rules, but… Keith had fooled around with Lotor and both of them were still working there. “Yeah, but Lotor is an executive and you’re an assistant. Are you willing to give up your dream career for a man?” Lance didn’t have an answer to that. 

He pulled at the cuffs of his blazer. He was overdressed, he should change. What if he was just reading into this whole thing? He was projecting his own feelings onto Keith’s actions, seeing what he wanted to see. Glancing at the clock, it read 6:55 PM. Keith would be here any minute, there was no time to fix it. He was stuck. 

Lance looked at himself in the mirror. His tan blazer dressed up his jeans enough that he looked stylish and cool. Under the jacket he had a white shirt and the whole outfit was finished off with Keith’s red scarf. He knew what he was doing wearing the scarf and he didn’t care at this point. Well, if he was going down, he was going to go down in style. 

There was a knock. 

He took a deep breath and walked to the door, keeping his pace steady. Lance knew his walls were mostly paper and Keith would _ definitely _know if he ran to the door. “Hey,” he said, opening the door with a carefully neutral expression. 

Keith was looking over his shoulder at the water, but turned when the door opened. 

Keith was wearing dark slacks and a slate grey button-up, covered in a smart-looking dark blue sweater. Most notably, he had let his long hair down. It parted a little off-center and his bangs were straightened, blending back into the rest of his hair on either side. 

His eyes went a little wide, going from Lance’s head to his feet and back in a painfully obvious once-over. “Hi,” he near-whispered, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Hi. You look very nice.” 

Lance’s heart skipped. “You don’t look half bad yourself. It’s nice to see what you look like out of a suit.” They stood there for a moment looking at each other without speaking, before Lance jolted. “Let me grab my wallet.” He turned to grab his keys and wallet from the tray by the door and smiled at Keith. “Ready?” 

“Uh, almost.” Keith reached outside of the view of the doorframe and when he leaned back, he was holding up an enormous potted fern. “...Pidge said I ought to bring flowers, but um, I remembered you liked houseplants. So. It’s a fern, here.” He held out the fern before pulling it back a little and making a face. “This is strange, right? Should I have gotten you flowers?” 

“A Boston fern?” Lance held out his hands in awe. “Keith these are like, the number one plant to get rid of air pollution. It’s perfect. I’m going to name him Harry. Harry the Fern.” 

The sound Keith made was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh as he handed it over. “I guess I’ll take that as a good sign.” Then, chivalrously, he stepped aside and motioned for Lance to come out and make his way down the stairs. “Car’s waiting around front. After you.” 

“One sec, let me put Harry with his sister.” Lance ran and placed the fern next to a hanging ivy. He clapped the dust off his hands and joined Keith outside. Once he was all locked up they made their way to the car. 

“Car” turned out to be a sleek black thing, complete with driver who was waiting to open their door for them. He bowed to Lance as he did so. “Good evening, Sir.” 

“Uh, good evening?” Did he bow back? Lance looked from the driver to Keith and back again. He didn’t think he’d ever been _ bowed _ to in his whole life. 

Keith shrugged. “I wanted to be able to talk to you without paying attention to not dying in traffic. Plus, no one knows this city better than Blaytz.” 

“I thought we were just going out to dinner?” Lance was way out of his depth. He’d imagned a nice chain restraunt and beer as they chatted, instead Keith came in a fucking Benz with a _ driver. _ Lance wasn’t in Keith’s league, he wasn’t even worthy of the scum on Keith’s shoe. There was a reason _ he _ got _ Keith’s _coffee and it would never be the other way around. 

“We are,” Keith said easily and waved Blaytz off. When the man had climbed into the driver’s seat, Keith leaned in a little closer. “You’re thinking really loud. What’s wrong? Too much?” 

“No, it's nice.” Lance shook his head still staring. “I’m just not used to-” Lance waved at the car. “-this.” 

“Hey.” Keith caught his hand and brought it down, drawing Lance’s attention back to him. “I want to make sure you have a good time. You work just as hard as I do, and deserve to be treated that way. Okay? Just relax.” 

With a strength Lance thought was a fluke by the elevators that afternoon, he wrapped his fingers between Keith’s and nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.” He tugged Keith toward the open door. “Where are you taking me? I’m starved.” 

Keith quirked a secret little smile. “I did a little last minute research. All by my lonesome, even, without you there. Not too far.” 

"Keith Kogane, able to function without me? I'll have to see it to believe it." Lance let go as he slid into the seat. When Keith followed him inside, he linked their hands again. Keith didn't seem to mind, but Lance tucked into the red scarf anyway to hide. 

True to his word, Blaytz managed to shave plenty of time off the trip by taking roads most people probably didn’t even realize were there. When he pulled up and opened the door, they were at North Pier, a section of town with restaurants and shopping built out over the water. Specifically, they were headed for a relatively upscale seafood restaurant called Catch 22, not just because of what Lance had mentioned about loving the beach and surfing, but also because the plaza outside had been decorated heavily for Christmas. In front of the moderately sized, nautical Christmas tree, there was a live band playing modernized versions of classic Christmas songs. 

Keith stood next to Lance as he looked around, the hush of waves mingling with “Jingle Bell Rock.” He hunched over a little to keep warm and snuck a glance to see what Lance’s reaction might be. “There’s a kind of variety show here in about an hour. Singing and dancing and Christmas stuff.” 

“Holy shit, Keith.” Lance hadn’t looked down since they stepped out of the car. He’d given Keith crap about not going to the ice rink and Christmas market, but now he needed to swallow his words. This place was a winter wonderland at sea. Sparkling lights and glittering ocean. “I wanna see the show but, won’t we be eating?” 

“Well, not unless you take forever. I have the back room reserved for us, so we won’t have to wait in that.” Keith indicated the line of people huddled outside with beepers, waiting to be called. “C’mon, let’s get you fed so you can enjoy the merriment or whatever.” 

He smiled at Lance and, a little shy, a little red-faced, held out his hand again. 

Lance took his hand. The butterflies it caused would probably take forever to calm down. He was going to be stuck with them for days, he was sure. "Do you mean, a private room, like-" Lance didn't want to bring up Lotor, but it was also the first time he'd ever been in one. "-dinner when we did the skating charity event?" 

Keith laughed and pulled him along. “Same concept, but _ much _better company.” He didn’t even make it to the door before the Maitre’d saw them and came around from the podium. He smiled graciously and indicated the side of the building. 

“Welcome, Mr. Kogane, we have your room all ready. Please, follow me.” 

Ignoring the glares from the people outside, he guided them around to the left and into a side door. This led to, as promised, a small, quiet little room lit with the yellow light of a few simple chandeliers, now strung with garland and festive holly. The single table was pressed against the window, looking out on an unimpeded view of the waves. A chilled bottle of white wine was already sitting in an ice bucket on the table. 

Before they walked in, Keith tugged Lance back by the wrist a little and whispered, “Remember. It’s okay. You deserve to be treated this way.” 

Lance didn't know what to say to that, so he nodded mutely as Keith led them forward. He felt underdressed and out of his element, but a part of him was loving it. Normally, he was the one pampering himself and to have Keith dote on him felt secretly amazing. His mother wouldn't approve of letting Keith do all this without Lance paying him back. But, Keith was also right; he did work hard and the only difference between their labor was their paycheck. They technically performed the same job in tandem. 

A waiter pulled Lance’s chair back for him as Keith settled across the table and passed the menu over disinterestedly. “Anything you like is fine. And we aren’t in a huge rush. If the show starts before we’re done and you want to see it, there’s a balcony up top we can use.” 

Lance stared at the menu. He looked up at Keith and back down, flipping it over. “Uh.” The backside was blank. It was only one page with fancy script listing all the food of the day and where all the fish came from. “Keith,” he whispered, leaning over the table as if someone would hear them in their private room. 

Keith looked up from the wine list. “...Yeah?” 

“There’s no prices.” Lance flipped the menu to show Keith. “Do you think they gave us the wrong one? We should ask for a new one.” 

Keith bit his lip, struggling, then swallowed his laugh back into a smile. “No, they don’t usually list the prices here. It’s _ fine, _Lance.” 

It wasn’t fine. There wasn’t a way to gauge how expensive this place even was. “Then how are we supposed to know how much a…” Lance looked down at the menu. “Sole Meuniere is?” 

Keith took the menu from him, placing it to the side, and grabbing his hand instead. “Look at me.” 

Lance protested, eyes following the menu as it was taken from him. "But…" 

“_ Look _at me.” 

Lance realized that he’d moved to the edge of his chair and it was tilting precariously forward. Forcing himself to take a breath, he let the chair settle onto the floor with a thunk. He tore his eyes away from the paper and looked at Keith. 

“Please let me do this,” Keith said, staring at Lance with single-minded intensity. “Stop thinking about how much things cost and try to enjoy yourself. If it gets to be too much, we’ll do something else, okay?” It was like a thought occurred to him then, because his expression went from serious to crestfallen. “Is this...not okay? Should I have done something else?” 

“No!” Lance lowered his voice, “No, it's not that. This is amazing.” He looked down at their linked hands. “Maybe you can help me out a little, though. Can you kinda...lead?” 

The smile that bloomed on Keith’s face also seemed to relax him. His shoulders dropped some tension and he sat up a little straighter. “Yeah, I can do that. Just tell me what you don’t like.” 

In the end, he ordered three separate meals for them to share as well as a few appetizers meant for two. They also polished off the bottle of wine between the two of them and that was how Lance discovered that Keith was a cheap drunk. Two glasses of wine had him rosy and starry-eyed. 

Lance had to admit, Keith was smart for getting them a private room. He didn’t feel watched and could enjoy the who-knew-how-expensive food in peace. Keith didn’t even bat an eye when he licked sauce off his fingers or reached across to steal a bite off his plate. Instead, he just smiled every time Lance moaned over a piece of fish or sip of wine. It was...nice. 

“This was a lot more fun than I expected it to be.” Lance looked through his lashes at Keith. “You’re a lot more fun.” 

Keith huffed around the rim of his wine glass. “Was that even a compliment?” 

"I meant it as one." Lance stretched as he stood up and held out his hand to Keith. It was getting easier to touch him. “Ready to watch the show?” 

With an eye roll, Keith allowed Lance to pull him from his chair. “Oh _ now _you’re feeling confident. All it takes is a full stomach?” 

“Nah, just good company.” Lance could smell Keith’s cologne. The smell of Keith had long faded from the scarf and having Keith’s scent so close made him want to do regrettable things. “Do you think we can watch from the balcony anyway? Maybe we can order some coffee and sober up.” 

“Of course we can, but why bother with sobering up? We have a driver.” 

_ Because I’m not sure if I can control myself, _ Lance thought. His fingers already itched to run through Keith’s hair and all he could think about was how Keith would taste. 

Lucky for Lance, wine also made Keith a little more physically uninhibited, because he placed a tentative hand around his waist to guide them out of the small room. 

A few quick words to the Maitre’d had them escorted to a spiral staircase that led to a small rooftop balcony, private enough to not be in sight of the crowd but with a decent side view of the tree and the stage. 

There was a large bench with padding alongside the railing and a small table for two. A gas patio heater glowed red over their heads, keeping them warm. Lance settled into the bench, leaning forward to rest his arms on the banister. He missed the firm and gentle hand on his back, but told himself that he was asking for too much too soon. He was lucky they were even touching. 

From here Lance could see all the way out to the ocean and the lights of the faraway ships rippled on the waves. They were almost eye level with the top of the tree that sat darkened in the center. As a hush ran over the crowd below, music began to swell. The first notes of _ O Tannenbaum _ floated up to their perch. 

"It's beautiful." 

“...Yeah.” 

Lance looked over his shoulder at Keith and the words he was about to say stuck in his throat. Keith's hair shone in the red of the lamp and his eyes reflected the city lights. A soft smile played on his lips and Lance realized that he wasn't smiling at the tree or the ocean. Keith was smiling at him. 

“Sure is.” 

Voices joined the music from below, singing in German. Lights flashed across Keith’s face and Lance turned just in time to see the star light at the very top. It cast golden beams down on them as Lance sat back, looking up in awe at the tree. 

He’d expected to hit cold cushions, but instead was met with warmth. He startled as Keith's arm landed across his shoulders. His back was slightly over Keith's chest and he leaned forward. "Sorry, I didn't realize." 

Keith followed him forward, grabbing for Lance’s hand. Leather glove slid over his skin and Lance grasped back almost automatically. Keith stroked his thumb over the back of Lance’s hand as if to calm him. 

The song shifted as the lights began to dance across Keith's face, speckling it in silver and gold. Lance's fingers itched again. Keith was - had always been, even when he was haggard and half-alive, practically bleeding out over their exams - so damn hard to resist. 

Keith's dark eyes flicked from Lance’s, down to his lips, and back, darting between them nervously. He licked his lips as he croaked out, “...Lance…?” 

Lance swallowed. "Yeah?" 

Reaching up with his free hand, Keith tucked a piece of hair behind Lance’s ear. “Can I ask you something?” The strand fell back into place as Keith's hand moved down, tracing the sharp lines of Lance’s jaw. 

"Yeah." Lance's heart pounded. His lips felt dry and he really wanted a drink. He wet his lips. The thirst didn't abate, so he swallowed thickly. 

Keith watched Lance's Adam's apple bob, drawing his attention to that slender neck sticking out of his own scarf. 

“How long?” Keith whispered, voice thin and dusty, as if he’d forgotten how to talk. The fingers tracing Lance’s jaw trailed to his lips and snagged on the lower one, pulling it down a little. “How long have you…?” 

Lance found himself leaning into Keith's hand, but pulled back at the question. A deep blush bloomed over his cheeks, warm with the wine they'd drunk. He shook his head. "No." 

“Tell me.” Keith lunged in, clearly desperate not to lose contact. His hand went behind Lance’s neck as he pressed their foreheads together. The clouds of their breath mingled in the cold air between them. “Tell me how long you’ve thought about this. Please.” 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Lance sighed. Keith was so close, touching him and holding him. He could smell the rich scent of wool and cologne that made up Keith, so different from when they were in college. "Senior year, when you made Iverson Google that one case in front of everyone because you knew I was right and he was being a dick. You weren’t smug. You weren't even doing it for me; you just couldn't stand the injustice of it, I think. I couldn't believe how confident and totally unphased you were as he yelled. I fell pretty hard for your emo ass in that moment." Lance slowly opened his eyes. They were so, so close, it would be so easy… He might die if Keith pulled away and laughed at him now. 

Instead, Keith let out an exhale that was half-sigh and half-laugh. “I wish I’d known. I wish you’d said.” When he glanced up, his eyes were black and gold, want and wonder and the twinkle of Christmas lights reflecting back at Lance. “Can I ask you something else?” 

"I guess; you already have me spilling my guts." Lance relaxed. Keith hadn’t pulled away. He let his hands grow braver as they brushed the thick wool of Keith's coat. 

That earned him a little smirk, but it was soon replaced by the parting of Keith’s lips as he moved closer, impossibly closer, hovering just out of reach. “Can I kiss you?...Please?” 

Lance fisted Keith's coat. He'd wanted, dreamed, _ fantasized _, about this moment. And in every iteration of his imagination, it had never been as wonderful as those words made him feel. "Yes," he breathed more than spoke, the single word hitching. 

Keith did. 

Like everything about him, it wasn’t about finesse or gentleness, but rather the insatiable chase after something he very much desired. He was on Lance like paper catching fire, a soft brush of lips that led to another, then a much firmer press, and then he abandoned restraint and pulled Lance towards him by the hand and neck both. He nipped and sucked at Lance’s lips, muffling a groan by forcing Lance to swallow the sound as his mouth opened, hot and demanding. 

Lance succumbed to Keith's mouth. He didn't care what this meant for his career, not when Keith was diving into his mouth as if he was searching for his soul. The world melted away and reformed into Keith. Keith’s lips, Keith’s hands, Keith’s smell. Lance unclenched his fists and wandered over Keith’s body until his fingers found the loose strands of dark hair he’d grown so obsessed with. He groaned as he combed his fingers into the silky ink of it. He didn’t care about any repercussions this would mean for him, but what about… Lance used the hair to control Keith and pulled him back, panting. “Are you sure? We--” His fingers continued to play and tug. “Your position.” 

“Are we at the office? No? Then stop talking,” Keith commanded, thick and dark with want. 

The command went straight to Lance's dick. He snapped his mouth shut and pulled sharp and desperate at Keith's hair. 

Keith ducked his head and began mouthing hot, greedy kisses along Lance’s jawline to his ear. “You’re so fucking pretty Lance. So beautiful. Wanted to kiss you for so long.” 

"Really?" Lance gasped as Keith sucked on the sensitive space under his ear. He tilted his neck to give Keith full access. "You barely even remembered me." 

That earned him a nip on the neck before Keith’s tongue swirled in his ear and his annoyed growl came out humid against the shell of it. “What did I just say? For being my assistant, you’re not very good at following orders.” 

"If you want me to shut up so bad, make me." The cold winter night turned into summer wherever Keith touched and Lance wanted more. Fingers abandoned Keith's hair to fumble at the woolen coat. He needed to find out what every inch of Keith felt like, tasted like. 

Keith was doing a better job of worming his hands under Lance’s blazer, spreading the leather of his gloves across his shirt and massaging at the small of his back. “Didn’t say,” Keith murmured between sucking marks along the side of Lance’s neck, “wanted you to stop making noise.” He punctuated this by an unrelenting bite right above Lance’s collar. 

Tilting his head back, Lance cried out from the back of his throat. It was all too much and not enough. A small voice reminded him they were still in public even if it was a private space. The voice was pushed away by Keith's tongue licking stripes across his neck. The leather of Keith's gloves was soft and erotic, but he wanted to feel skin. "Touch me," he pleaded, voice saturated with desire. 

“I dunno,” Keith drawled as one of his hands snaked around the front to pet down Lance’s chest and then came to rest lightly on the zipper of his pants. “You didn’t ask very nicely.” 

Lance did his best to push into Keith's teasing hand. He gave up on undoing coat buttons and settled for fisting the lapels, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Lance sucked and bit and explored the inside of Keith's mouth with all the ferocity of his pent up emotions. 

Dimly, the brassy upswell of “It’s The Most Wonderful Time” nagged at Keith, detracting from the moment as he reciprocated, exploring the back of Lance’s teeth and biting at his lips until they were glossy and cherry-red. He pulled back with a needy exhale and held Lance at arm’s length, staring at him with eyes gone nearly black. “...How badly do you want to watch the Christmas show?” 

"Show?" Lance had genuinely forgotten that was why they were up here in the first place. He looked out at the shining tree and back at Keith's tousled figure. "Zero to none." 

Still breathing heavily, Keith tried to reign himself in enough to cup Lance’s cheek - to search his eyes and ensure they were on the same page. “...Come home with me?” 

Keith wanted him. Lance's heart fluttered and his stomach grew deep with hunger as images of what they were about to do filled his mind. "You can have me wherever you want me." Lance turned his head so that he could lick at Keith's thumb, almost purring at the taste of leather. 

Grunting, Keith pushed his thumb into Lance’s pretty, eager mouth, watching as his tongue pet the underside of his gloved finger. His eyelashes fluttered and his legs spread, desperately needing to make space for how tight his pants had become. “Careful telling me that. You’ll wind up bent over my desk in front of that big glass window where the whole city can watch you take everything I give you and more.” 

Lance couldn't reply with Keith's finger in his mouth so he ran his teeth down to the tip of the glove and bit. He tugged at it, pulling it off until Keith's hand was bare. The glove dropped from his mouth and he dove back in, working Keith's fingers in his mouth. He wanted to be bent over Keith's desk or his bed or this goddamn bench if it meant being filled. He shoved Keith's fingers down until they hit the back of his throat, the nails scratching the soft insides of his mouth, and then pushed more. Just to show off. 

The groan that pulled from Keith was downright obscene, and as soon as he could retract safely, he pulled his hand back and hauled Lance to his feet. “Car,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “_ Now _.” 

It took Lance’s tipsy mind a second to follow. Keith, impatient, hauled him up and they both stumbled. Lance vaguely wondered how drunk Keith was. He didn't ponder it long since Keith was guiding him off the balcony and out the door none too gently. 

Lance leaned in as they made their way back to the car. He nipped at Keith's ear and whispered, "Tell me what you're going to do to me." 

“Jesus, Lance.” He didn’t even wait for Blaytz to open the door for them - simply barked out a curt but still decorous “To my apartment, please,” before practically shoving Lance into the back seat and closing the privacy window. 

Keith was on him, over him, in an instant, tugging Lance’s shirt free from his pants and running his palm reverently over the soft skin of his belly. “For one, I’m going to put that talented, smartassed mouth of yours to good use, since you seem so eager to choke on my dick.” He settled one leg between Lance’s thighs, rocking down and bracing himself with his other hand and leg for momentum. “I think you like that, too. Like the idea of me fucking your mouth raw.” 

_ Yes, _that was exactly what he wanted. "Keith, please," Lance was begging, mind buzzing and cock dripping. He was so hard it hurt. His cock strained against his jeans at an awkward angle. "M'so hard. Touch me." He opened his mouth as his hands trailed down to loosen the pressure. The button refused to budge to his wine-dumbed fingers. 

“Wasn’t done yet,” Keith chided, pressing his thigh down harder to trap Lance’s hand against the bulge at his crotch. “You asked, so I’m going to tell you. I’ll let you suck me off, but I’m not gonna come down your throat, even though you want it so bad. Instead, I’m gonna toss you on the bed and press those long legs back, back, up by your ears so I can bury my head in your pretty ass and eat you out. Would you like that, Lance?” 

A long whine escaped Lance as he nodded. He rutted against his own hand and Keith's thigh. "You keep calling me pretty." 

“You are.” Keith lowered himself down enough to press a sweet kiss against Lance’s panting mouth, licking at his teeth when he gasped in a breath. “Everything about you is really beautiful. No matter what you’re doing, you’re so goddamn handsome and...and fucking _ radiant _.” With the lust coloring his voice, he sounded stuck between angry about that and reverent. 

_ Oh, _ that did things for Lance he didn’t even know were possible. Red stained his cheeks and heat rose from his stomach all the way to his ears. He reached out with his free hand, desperate to touch. He wanted to know what Keith's cock looked like. Wanted to feel the weight of it. Needed to see what he was doing to Keith. 

Keith caught his hand and kissed the palm of it, nibbling a little at the veins in Lance’s wrist. “Soon. We aren’t far. Then you can touch all you want, if you’re good for me. Think you can do that?” 

“I can’t.” Lance shook his head, shuddering at the light graze of Keith’s teeth. “You’re too much. I can barely--” He gasped as the angle shifted and the sensitive head of his cock brushed Keith’s thigh. “I’ll be good just…” Lance finished his sentence with a buck of his hips. 

“Not gonna last for me, huh, beautiful?” Keith’s dark chuckle was like thunder in a rain barrel. “That’s okay. We’ve got all night.” He slid down along the long back seat and deftly unbuckled Lance’s jeans, wasting no more time in pulling his cock free. Keith tilted his head, licking his lips in admiration as he gave it a few loose test strokes. “Look how hard you are for me. Fuck. This is all for me, isn’t it?” 

Keith didn't get an answer right away. Lance cried out, cursing and moaning. He panted as he forced out an, “M’all yours.” 

Lance pressed up into Keith’s hand; it encircled most of the base, leaving only some shaft and the head peeking out. He looked down at Keith holding all of him. Being engulfed like this was so hot. He’d always been fairly average when it came to dick size, but Keith’s hand made him look small. He wondered if it wasn’t enough. “Am I- Is it okay?” 

“Are you…” Keith paused and glanced up at Lance, looking half-dumbstruck. He shifted back and lifted a little, taking Lance’s hand and pressing it to the rigid line in his own slacks. “Feel that? I’ve never been so hard in my _ life _. You’re perfect.” 

That sounded like permission. 

Lance pressed against him and rubbed. God, he was so hard. For him. Keith was definitely thicker than he was but it was hard to tell through cloth. He stared wide-eyed as he traced the outline of Keith. Flipping his hand wrist-up, he slid his fingers between Keith’s legs, cupping him. He wanted Keith inside him. Looking up with pleading eyes, he whined. 

“Almost there,” Keith half-cooed, then dropped his head and took the tip of Lance into his mouth, pressing his tongue into his slit and lapping like a contented cat. 

Lance’s head slammed into the seat and his hand flew to Keith’s head. Fingers entangled themselves into black strands. Lance _ moaned. _Keith’s fist worked the base as his mouth licked and sucked the head. Now and then he’d lick him from base to tip like ice cream and Lance’s back would arch. “Keith.” He pulled on Keith’s hair, trying to get more of his mouth around his cock. “You’re going to make me come if you keep going.” 

Keith popped off with a satisfied hum. “You were gonna do that anyway if I kept talking, so might as well have the pleasure of swallowing you down, right? Don’t worry. I’ll work you back up soon enough. Want you to paint my throat first. Can you do that for me?” 

“You’re going to swallow it?” He squirmed. Keith’s fist never stopped pumping and it was hard to think every time his fingers brushed the head. What _ was _ easy to think about was his come spilling down Keith’s throat as he lapped greedily at his dick. Lance blinked heavy eyes as his imagination superimposed over reality. “Can you?” It was a request. 

“Every time,” Keith promised. “Now be a good boy and give me what I want.” Then he dove back down and swallowed around everything his fist didn’t cover, sucking at Lance’s cock like he was starving for it. 

Lance cried out. Colors flashed behind his eyes as his orgasm mounted. It was hard to last after so much teasing. It didn’t help that Keith’s mouth was masterful. No wonder Lotor was obsessed; Lance could feel himself getting addicted. 

Keith coaxed Lance’s orgasm with his tongue, pulling it from the depths of his belly. Lance could feel his balls tighten as his abdomen squeezed. “I’m coming,” he sobbed, tears pricking at his eyes. He threw an arm over them to hide as his whole body arched. 

Abandoning his fist, Keith dropped all the way down, true to his word so that Lance’s release was hitting the back of his throat. He used his hands to rub Lance’s thighs soothingly as he swallowed pulse after pulse of bitter heat until he finally pulled off. With a quick kiss to the tip of Lance’s softening dick, Keith crawled up and nuzzled at his neck to get his attention, opening his mouth to show Lance the last of his mess still on Keith’s tongue. He made a show of swallowing before leaning down to give him a quick kiss. “You did so good, beautiful - so good for me, thank you. You were amazing.” 

The taste of himself on Keith was heady. Lance wanted more, just to know it was real. Even as stray tears fell from the corners of his eyes, he smiled up at Keith, dopy and content. “You’re the one with the talented mouth.” Lance leaned up, licking Keith’s lips like a kitten. His head felt clear and the buzz of the wine was ebbing. “I can’t wait to see what else that mouth can do.” 

The slowing of the car indicated that they were pulling into the parking garage. Lance was still half undressed. Scrambling for his pants, Lance tried to get out from under him. 

Chuckling, Keith helped him button back up with a quick kiss and a promise of, “For now.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: Autumn has a family and is doing Christmas shit so you lot are stuck with me and my family-less self who has the time to post  
awww look they went on a date!!! isn't that cute? *waves a gingerbread cookie like a fan* it's getting steamy in here, look forward to the smutty next chapter
> 
> You know what they say, one good follow deserves another: [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chants* smut smut smut smut!  
If you want to skip to the morning after go to after the snowflakes where it starts: Lance yawned
> 
> Autumn: alright listen. The line right before that break? We wrote it as a joke and then didn’t have the heart to change it. So we’re sorry/you’re welcome. 
> 
> Be cool like @Blue_thief_ and follow us /o/ thanks @Blue_thief_ you're pretty cool *winks both eyes* [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

❄️❄️❄️

Blaytz, to his credit, made absolutely no indication of knowing what had transpired in the back seat. He just bowed to Keith, who was hiding his own arousal behind his sizable winter coat. Keith bid him goodnight and led Lance to the elevators, bypassing the civilian ones for a glass one with a keypad. This one took them up from the garage into a view of the cityscape, where a few snowflakes caught the moonlight as they drifted past. On the topmost floor, Keith held the door and motioned for Lance to go first. 

Lance’s face was pressed against the glass and only broke away when the doors dinged. He was expecting a hallway at the very least, but instead, he was faced with a single door. “Uh, where are we?” He looked around but there were no other doors in the entry. 

Keith shot him a confused look as he ducked around Lance to hold his card against the pad for the door. “My apartment?” 

“Apartment” was selling it awfully short. 

It was a penthouse suite, and the foyer was all open space, the entire far wall nothing but a window to the city. The living room was sunk into the floor with several long couches and a free-standing black fireplace that was already going. From where they were standing, the corner of a black marble countertop indicated that the kitchen was off to the right. 

Lance’s entire apartment could fit into the entranceway and he’d made Keith  _ sleep  _ there. His mom was right, he had made Keith sleep like he was in time out. There wasn’t a single thing in this place that Lance wasn’t scared to touch. He stood frozen in place, worried that if he broke anything he’d spend the rest of his life paying it off. 

Something jingled and rubbed against Lance’s leg. 

A…cat? His nose tingled. A sneeze was threatening to attack him into a fit. 

Keith had been busy very quickly divesting himself of his coat and keys by the front credenza. He turned back to Lance and frowned at the face he was making. “Lance? You o-oh!” With dawning realization, Keith darted forward and scooped up the fluffy black cloud with eyes. “Sorry, I forgot. This is Red. I’ll lock her in the spare room, just give me a second.” 

“She’s very-” Sneeze. “-cute.” Sneeze. “I love her.” With the cat gone Lance felt a little better but his eyes were starting to itch. When Keith came back, he was rubbing at them. “Do you have any allergy meds I can borrow?” 

With a fond chuckle, Keith nodded and gestured to the living room and then the hallway. “Sure, I’ll grab something. Make yourself comfortable, or the bedroom is down the hall on the right. If.” He seemed a little uncertain now that the wine was wearing off and they were standing in his own apartment. “If you still feel...we can certainly just relax if you don’t feel…?” 

Lance didn’t feel all that sexy with his itching eyes, but the image Keith had planted in his head of himself bent in half as Keith ate him out- he wanted it so bad. Keith didn’t even know how flexible Lance really was and he was eager to show him just how far Keith  _ could _ bend him if he wanted. “The pills and I’ll be fine.” Lance stepped closer, into Keith’s space. He ran a hand down Keith’s solid thigh. “You promised me you’d eat my ass and I’m not going to let you off that easily.” He brushed his hand across the softening hardon and rubbed. It easily rose to full attention under his administrations. Wow, he could get used to this kind of power rush. 

“...Noted,” Keith half-sighed, unable to help the way his hips thrust forward, looking for more. Clearing his throat, he mumbled, “Pills, right. Make yourself at home. I’ll meet you in the bedroom.” 

Lance gave a final squeeze that earned him a moan. With a peck to Keith's cheek Lance made his way to the bedroom, careful not to touch anything. 

The bedroom was no less impressive than the living room in terms of space, but decidedly emptier. It consisted of a king-sized bed, a dresser, a mirror, and little else to decorate or make the space homey. There was a set of French doors that led onto a small balcony, and beyond it lay the same impressive view of the skyline. It was nice, definitely, but...cold. There was nothing much here to indicate who Keith was as a person. 

It didn’t take long for Keith to return with Claritin and a glass of water. “Here, open up,” he said, dropping his voice. Evidently he must have sensed that Lance was feeling less than sultry after a visit from Red, because he brushed his thumb over Lance’s bottom lip, tugging at it a little until he relented. With a gentleness that would very likely surprise everyone at Blade, he placed the pill on Lance’s waiting tongue and tipped the glass up for him to take a sip. “Better?” he murmured, trying once again to tuck an unruly little lock of hair behind Lance’s ear. 

"Yeah." The placebo effect of swallowing a pill was already working. "I have hands, you know." Lance wiggled them as proof. "I could've done it myself." 

Keith ducked his head, cheeks decidedly pink. “Sorry.” 

"I secretly like it." Lance winked. "You can force me to do other things if you want, maybe put my hands to better use?" 

Lance’s confidence and gentle teasing was enough to realign Keith’s focus. He smirked and threaded a hand into the short hair at the back of Lance’s neck, pulling him in closer and nipping little half-bites along his jaw. “Yeah? But I had something else in mind, remember. So first I want you to take off your clothes right where I can see you.” 

"I guess I did promise to be good." Lance pushed Keith back until his legs buckled against the bed. Keith sat down with a bounce as Lance ran his hand down Keith's chest. 

He stepped back as Keith tried to grab at him. Shrugging his shoulders, he let his blazer fall into a puddle on the floor. Lance kicked it away and pulled up his sleeves. Button by button he undid his shirt, exposing his chest inch by inch. Once it was open, he closed in on Keith, straddling him. The shirt fell off, but got tangled on his elbows. The pulled up sleeves trapped it on his arms, restraining his movements. 

"I've fantasized about that, you know. Bringing you some boring files and being too hot to resist." Lance worked the button on his pants, letting them stay half open as he ground against Keith's thigh. "You getting so worked up that you can't help but fuck me right there. Punishing me with your cock for being too loud." 

“I’ll uh…” Keith trailed off. Swallowed. “I’ll keep that in mind next time. That I’m actually allowed to do exactly what I’m thinking every time you do bring me boring files.” 

Lance stepped back again, turning as he pulled off his jeans and underwear all at once, giving Keith a nice view of his ass. Unable to keep his hands to himself, Keith smoothed his palms up the perfect ass being so generously offered up. “This is gonna look so good all split open for me,” he said, almost to himself. 

"You're a bit overdressed for that activity, don't 'cha think?" Lance let Keith knead his ass for a moment longer before he got to work stripping down Keith. He teased Keith's nipples with his mouth through his shirt while he unbuttoned it. Two wet spots marred the pretty fabric by the time he was pulling it off. Keith swatted him away, practically tearing the cloth of his pants to get undressed. 

"Wasn't going fast enough for you?" 

“No,” Keith said simply, making quick work of his belt and standing to shuck everything down together. He pulled his shoes and socks off before straightening, now fully naked in front of Lance and so, so hard. He’d held himself back in the car, but now he was done waiting, couldn’t wait - not with Lance’s honey-gold skin on display and those ice blue eyes looking at him with definite lust. Keith closed the distance between them and this time it was Lance who found himself spun and bodily pushed down to sit on the bed as Keith positioned the tip of his cock right at Lance’s lips. “Go on, then. Don’t tell me you’re all talk and no action.” 

Licking his lips, Lance took in Keith's cock, heavy and weeping. He tasted a drop of precome, and the string of liquid was musky and bitter. He lapped it up. Once the tip of Keith's cock was clean, he moved to lick the shaft and balls and nip at the soft flesh of his thigh. 

Lance teased Keith, watching him through his lashes as he kissed and sucked. He gently massaged Keith's balls, listening to his moans. Keith's fingers laced through his hair, tugging insistently as he whined. Lance took pity on him. In one swift movement he swallowed Keith down to the hilt. 

The swollen cock hit the back of his throat and slid down into the ring of muscle. Lance swallowed around it, massaging it as he pulled away, only to slam back down again. He watched Keith slowly lose his mind from his mouth and it felt. So. Good. 

“So you really are talented, aren’t you.” Keith ran his hands through Lance’s hair, pushing it back so he could look into his eyes - big, wide, and eager to please. “You look so good like this with that pretty mouth all stuffed full of my cock. How many times have you thought of this?” 

Keith’s hips jolted forward and he shuddered every time Lance met him inch for inch. “I’ve thought about it just about every day since you started work. Had no idea you’d look this good doing it. God, you’re so fucking beautiful, Lance, doing such a good job for me.” His mouth was running away from him, but Keith didn’t care - not with the way Lance was moaning and humming around him, sending little vibrations down his dick that threatened his hard-won self control. When it got to be just a little too close, he gently pulled Lance off. 

Lance's tongue lapped the air, trying to latch back on. His mouth felt so empty. 

Keith wiped the drool from the corner of Lance's mouth with his thumb. “Wanna lie back for me now, gorgeous? Time to keep my promise.” 

"I wanna make you come." Lance's eyes were glued to Keith's cock, shining wet with his spit. 

“You will. But I’m not going to until I have you all stretched out and begging for me.” Keith crawled over him, pressing him down to the mattress with a deep, hungry kiss, sucking at his tongue before pulling back to nuzzle along Lance’s neck and collarbone. “But I won’t say no next time if you want it that bad. You’re hard to say no to.” 

"Next time, I could do it under your desk." Lance arched into Keith. His hands ran over Keith's body, touching everything he could. His fingers were addicted to Keith's silky hair and soft skin. Lance remembered the cruel way Keith treated both. It was unfair that he was so soft. 

“I think I’d like that.” Keith propped himself up with one hand so he could cup Lance’s face and give him a sweet kiss for all the good work he’d just done. “But now I want to hear more of those sweet little sounds you were making for me in the car. Be good for me and let me know how it feels, alright?” It was an order but also a request, and the softness in his eyes was meant as a reminder for Lance that they could stop any time if he was uncomfortable. Keith doubted it would go that way; not the way Lance responded every time he got a compliment. 

Keith slid down Lance’s body, placing warm, wet kisses down his chest, taking the time to give some attention to both nipples until they were hard against the flat of his tongue. Then his attention was on Lance’s lean stomach and the curly patch of hair above his cock that smelled so good - musky and sexy and Keith definitely needed some part of this man in his mouth yesterday. “Slide up the bed and let’s see if you’re flexible.” 

Lance smirked. He wiggled himself up until he was comfortably resting on Keith's pillow. "It's been a while since I stretched. You keep me too busy." 

“Guess we’ll have to multitask.” Keith’s palms glided over Lance’s thighs before hooking under them and lifting. He eased Lance’s legs back to meet his chest and raised his eyebrows appreciatively at how effortless it was. 

Lance grabbed his ankles. "I thought you wanted to fold me in half? You're not even trying." He pulled his legs to his ear, foot touching the headboard. 

“Jesus, fuck,” was Keith’s eloquent response, and he didn’t wait another second before laying belly down and using his thumbs to gently tug Lance’s ass apart. Then he dove in, giving what skin he could reach a few wet kisses before swirling his tongue against Lance’s tight hole. 

"Ah!" Lance gasped, shifting to give Keith better access. "That, ug, feels--" The tip of Keith's tongue pushed against him and Lance cried out. It was a lot easier to let himself go and be loud, safe in Keith's room. 

As a reward for following instructions - more or less, since Lance didn’t manage to tell him  _ how  _ it felt - Keith wiggled his tongue past the puckered ring of muscle, working Lance open with shallow little thrusts. Lance may have had the edge on Keith in the flexibility department, but Keith knew damn well he had an extra long, talented tongue that he intended to show off. 

Lance’s head slammed against the pillow and he moaned. Thrusting his hips onto Keith's tongue, he let his hands wander to his nipples. "That, there-" gasp, "-yes that!" Keith was too far down to grab and Lance mourned that he couldn't pull Keith's face closer-- His mind turned to static as Keith hit an extra sensitive spot. "Fuck!" 

Keith took that as his cue to shove deeper, working his tongue in absolutely as far as it would go and curling up, licking at the fever-heat of his insides. His face was a complete mess, but he didn’t care in the least. All he cared about was wringing more of those amazing cries and pleas from Lance’s well-fucked throat. 

"Please, please, please…" Lance broke down into incoherent begging as Keith's tongue licked away all common sense. So soft and wet and overwhelming. His head thrashed back and forth to find an escape from the pleasure as it threatened to drive him mad. Keith, worth millions, who made him buy coffee every morning, was eating him out. Lance's cock grew hard against his stomach as if it hadn't come a few minutes ago. 

Even if Lance couldn’t see it, Keith was still half-grinning with his face planted firmly between Lance’s asscheeks, thrusting his tongue in as hard and far as it would go as he released one leg to smooth his palm along the soft, delicate skin of Lance’s inner thigh. He didn’t do much, just placed his palm over Lance’s cock and rubbed a little, encouraging him back to full hardness before he was ready to pull away. Even if Keith was confident in his ability to hold back, the  _ sounds  _ Lance made still had him on edge, and he rocked his hips into the mattress to get what little relief he could. 

"Keith," Lance's voice was deep and whiney, "I need you inside me." Keith's tongue was heaven but it didn't reach where he needed,  _ craved,  _ it to. "Fuck me, oh my God, please, just pound me. I need you." 

Keith pulled his tongue out and raised up on his knees, gazing down at the reddened, panting mess Lance had become. He smirked a little as he ran his wrist across his mouth. “You sure you know what you’re asking, beautiful?” he asked, low and throaty, but he was already crawling to the side to reach his nightstand. Lance was opened nicely for him, so it was quick work to push two and then three well-slicked fingers into his eager hole. 

Since Lance was just so insistent on showing off his acrobatics, Keith held his legs down next to his ears, making good on his word to bend him right the fuck in half as he positioned the tip of his cock at Lance’s entrance. “Remember,” he panted, “You asked for this.” Without any further warning, he slammed all the way in to the hilt, immediately setting a brutal, punishing pace that had his hips slapping against Lance’s ass so hard it almost stung. 

"Fuck!" How long had it been since he'd been so full? Not to mention Keith's cock was wonderfully thick, spreading him apart perfectly. Lance revelled in the brutal pace, doing his best to thrust back from his folded position. A long strand of expletives fell from his lips like a prayer, worshiping Keith. 

Keith shifted and Lance screamed, clutching at his hair. "There, right there, again.  _ More. _ " 

Keith thrust in to exactly where Lance had demanded he go...and stilled. “You,” he panted, “aren’t saying please. I told you to be  _ good.  _ So tell me how much you want my cock, keep talking for me in that pretty voice, and I’ll make sure you get what you want.” 

Lance glared, fire in his eyes. How dare he stop. Apparently Keith was as demanding in bed as he was in the office. He wiggled his hips trying to get any friction, but the tiny thrusts he could manage did nothing except drive him wild. Lance whined, reaching up for Keith. 

“Say,” Keith grit out, “ _ please _ .” 

"Goddamn it,  _ please,  _ Keith _ .  _ Please, fuck." Lance was nearly in tears. The years of pent up need was fire in his veins. "Fuck me, please. Please," he begged, his mouth speaking for him in incoherent half-sentences.

Keith held his position, grinding in small circles to press against exactly where Lance had asked, but with absolutely zero respite. He kept up the relentless pressure until Lance’s eyes really did get glassy and wet before he decided to finally have mercy. 

Snapping his hips, he pressed down with his full weight and set a brutal pace, driven higher and faster to the sound of Lance’s cries as the wet smack of their skin. 

When he felt Lance start to tense, he lifted his face, red and sweaty with his eyes all blown out. “Lance,” he warned, “M’close- d - d’you want me to-?” 

"Yes, please. Please, Keith. I want it." Lance reached up and wrapped his arms around Keith. 

“Alright, baby,” Keith purred. “let’s make the Yuletide gay.” 

❄️❄️❄️

Lance yawned, blinking into the soft filtered light of an unfamiliar room. It was way too soft and comfortable to be his. Something warm and heavy was pressing down on his chest. He itched his eyes as he tried to process what was going on. Blinking open a pair of bright eyes blinked back. “A cat?” He looked around, eyes adjusting. Curtains fluttered softly in the heater and Lance could see flashes of the city laid out below.  _ Keith. _

“Oh God, what did I do?” Lance sat up and Red jumped down with an indignant mewl. He remembered exactly what he’d done in excruciating detail when he could feel the soreness of sex across his whole body. They’d both crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. Not to mention he was very naked and his clothes were nowhere to be seen. 

“Okay, Lancey-Lance, you got this.” He figured desperate times called for desperate measures and made a quick run for the dresser in the corner. Dress pants, dress shirts, dress socks....Did Keith even own a t-shirt? Lance grabbed a button down from the bottom of the pile, a soft white one with horizontal white lines, and slipped it on as fast as he could. Keith apparently folded his shirts already buttoned, so he just left the top ones open and rolled up the sleeves. 

He didn’t really feel comfortable borrowing underwear from his boss or going commando in his work pants, so he decided this was as good as he was going to get. Lance took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door to find where his clothes had gone. Maybe he could sneak out of here before Keith came back from wherever he'd gone.

Red bolted from the bedroom around Lance’s feet and jingled her fluffy black Himalayan way into the kitchen, yowling for her daddy. From around the corner, there was the smell of coffee, of bacon frying, and another tinkle of Red’s bell as, unseen, Keith must have picked her up. 

“Shoosh,” Keith told her. “You’ll wake him up with your bitching and breakfast isn’t ready.” 

Lance was half tempted to go back and pretend to be asleep, but he was already dressed in Keith’s shirt. There was no way he was going to fold this thing up the way he found it. So instead, he padded his way across the apartment that was bigger than any house he’d ever been in, following his nose. 

Keith stood in the kitchen, back facing him. He was wearing black jogging pants that clung to his ass. Lance could  _ almost  _ see through them. A tight white tank top showed off his arms and back, especially since his hair was piled high on his head in a messy ponytail. It showed off the scratches and love bites Lance had left. He could get used to that sight. 

Sliding into one of the barstools he cleared his throat.

Keith jumped about a mile as he turned, a pan in one hand and a spatula in the other. “ _ Jesus _ ,” he accused. “How did I not hear…” He placed the cookware back on the stove and carried the coffee pot over, turning an unused mug from the serving tray right-side-up and pouring Lance a cup. His lips quirked in the shyest little smile Lance had ever seen from him - a far cry from the dominant force of nature he’d been the night before. He seemed almost...afraid. “Good morning.” 

“Morning.” All of a sudden Lance felt more unsure than before. Did Keith regret what happened? It made sense. Lance was a liability. “You made breakfast,” was all he could say as he wrapped his hands around the warm mug.

“Of course I did.” Keith chuckled and rubbed at his neck. “We both, uh, could use the energy. How are you feeling? I didn’t, um, hurt you or anything, did I?”

“Not in a bad way.” Lance shifted on the stool. “Though I did a number on your back.”

“Not in a bad way,” Keith agreed. A sizzling pop drew his attention back to the stove. He took a step towards it, hesitated, then darted back to kiss the top of Lance’s head before he could second guess himself. His face was already flushed before he turned around to hide it. “How do you like your eggs?” 

"Over medium with toast, scrambled without," Lance rambled off, mind racing with more important things. Did that mean Keith didn't regret it? What did that make them then? Were they both okay with risking their jobs? 

Lance snapped out of it when a plate clinked down in front of him. It was almost too much food. "You outdid yourself. I didn't know you could cook." 

“Just breakfast,” Keith admitted. “It’s hard to fuck up breakfast too badly. Everything else, I’m a disaster. The only things in that fridge are eggs, bacon, milk, and a lime that went feral about two months ago.” Keith was rambling and he knew it, so he shut himself up with a sip of coffee. 

Lance took that as his cue to eat. "Not bad. Better than I thought someone who couldn't get their own coffee could do." 

“I can get my own coffee,” Keith countered irritably. “How do you think I managed without you? You just bring the good stuff and know how to make it better.” 

"Mm, sure." He ate to the sound of silverware and Keith sipping coffee. Once he was done he got up to wash his plate. The whole time the question of where they stood now seemed to press into every action and every word.

"What’s the game plan for today?" Lance asked as nonchalantly as he could. 

“We should talk about that, shouldn’t we.”

Keith was staring directly into his coffee as he said it, trying valiantly to appear unphased. The way he gripped his cup said otherwise. 

“It would be pretty adult of us, yeah.” Lance washed his plate and placed it in the drying rack. He turned to face Keith. “There’s a lot to talk about. I mean you’re my-”

“I like you,” Keith blurted out, distressed. “I  _ really  _ like you and I don’t ever like people. I- I just really.” Red-faced, he sighed and squirmed in his seat. “That wasn’t very adult, was it.” 

Butterflies fluttered in Lance’s chest. “I like you too,” he whispered, looking down at his hands. “I think the adult part is what we’re going to do about it.”

“Do you trust yourself to be professional at work?” Keith asked. It wasn’t accusatory; he was genuinely asking. “I’m inclined to say yes for my part but...I’m not sure. It’s going to be really, really hard not to touch you. Kiss you. Now that I have.”

“What did you do after your thing with Lotor?”

Keith scoffed. “Ignored him entirely as much as I could. Focused on work.” 

“I don’t think I could handle that.” Lance stepped closer to Keith and brushed a shy finger over his white knuckles, loosening them from the mug. “Is there an in between option?”

“We’ll have to find one.” Keith let his death grip on the coffee go to lift Lance’s hand and kiss it. “I don’t think I could go back to completely normal, but I can try. But I don’t want to give you up.”

"Neither of us will have to; we can make it work." Taking advantage of the kiss, Lance cupped Keith's chin and drew their lips together. He tasted like coffee. Speaking between kisses, Lance followed the curve of Keith's jaw down to his neck, "We shouldn't arrive together and you should wear a darker shirt. I'm worried the scratches on your back will show through."

Keith  _ groaned.  _ “Remind me of that and neither of us will make it in today. I already got up before you and-“ Realizing what he’d almost admitted to, Keith stood abruptly and made a beeline for the coffee pot. 

“It’s a good thing your office has a door.” Lance leaned against the counter, watching Keith.

The coffee cup sloshed as Keith put it down and turned, closing the distance between them and tilting Lance’s face up, taking his mouth unceremoniously. He sucked at Lance’s tongue, all but purring at the sensation and the taste of him, morning and coffee and real. Pulling back with a tug to his lower lip, Keith grunted and ducked his head to nose at the space where Lance’s neck met his stolen shirt collar. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

"Hopefully, only in French." Lance tilted his head to give Keith access. He ran his thumbs around Keith's waistband, hooking them inside and hanging off to cup his ass. 

“Clever.” Keith took that as an invitation to bring their hips flush, rocking just a little against Lance as he mouthed a wet path down what he could get to of his chest. 

"If all it takes is mentioning doors, then I'm not sure how you're going to last." Lance moaned as Keith's mouth found the sensitive spot under his neck and above his chest. 

“Hey, I think I did a pretty damn good job of it last night.” Keith pulled back to fix him with a mock-annoyed pout. “Mr. Got-Off-Three-Times in an hour.” 

"That's not the kind of lasting I mean." Lance rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah.” Grabbing Lance by the hips, Keith moved them in a gentle swaying grind, tilting his head and giving Lance an insufferably smug grin. “But you were impressed.” 

Lance hissed, growing hard with nowhere to hide it. Keith’s shirt barely passed his ass. 

The smug grin, if possible, got worse. “You’re  _ still  _ impressed.”

"I'm not telling." Lance grabbed uselessly at Keith, trying to keep his composure. 

“You may not be.” Keith snaked a teasing hand between them, hiking up the hem of his shirt to palm Lance. “But this is.” 

Lance gasped and rolled his hips into Keith's hand. "You're such a tease." 

Lance's cell phone buzzed from the living room, playing an annoying morning alarm. "Keith," he said, whining.

“Mmhmm?” Keith hummed, all languid disinterest as he wrapped a hand around Lance’s length. “What, you need to get that?” 

"That's my alarm. It means it's almost seven." Lance let his head fall onto Keith's shoulder and licked small swipes of salty skin. 

Keith abandoned his groping in favor of reaching down to hoist Lance up by his thighs, trapping him against the wall with a smirk. “Good thing my apartment is much closer to the office than yours. Maybe I can ask my assistant to cancel my morning meetings.” 

"That could be arranged." Lance captured Keith's lips with his own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: Autumn is in the mountains feasting on food and hanging with family, so your comments are my only entertainment
> 
> Also, we do not apologize for Keith's language during sex
> 
> You know the drill, a twitter follow makes us smile: [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A touch more smut here, if you want to skip it read the beginning then, when you hit the snowflakes jump to the next snowflakes that start Friday morning.
> 
> twitter? twitter. [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

❄️❄️❄️

Keith drove them both, offering Lance a spare undershirt and a nondescript white button-up that no one would recognize. He’d dropped Lance off a few blocks away so that they could arrive separately and staggered. By the time he arrived on his floor, Lance was already there, shuffling papers. 

“Good morning,” Keith greeted him cordially. “How was your evening?” 

"Quite invigorating. How was yours, Mr. Kogane?" Lance passed a mug of coffee across his desk. It was the break room coffee instead of the normal artisan coffee he usually had. 

“Oh?” Keith asked, all feigned nonchalance. He took a sip of the bitter swill and made a face. “Eugh. My night was...illuminating,” he settled on, trying not to laugh at the strange look they were getting from poor elderly Mrs. YogaGoats. “What’s on the agenda for today?” 

“Since you’re late, I’ve rescheduled your morning appointment and canceled the conference meeting that would’ve been-” He looked down at the computer. “-right now. Your next appointment is at eleven o’clock.” 

The face Keith made was infinitely more displeased than when he’d sipped the coffee. “It’s with those guys from Atlas, isn’t it? I’ll be in there for hours.” 

Lance nodded apologetically. “The good news is, I have time to run to the cafe before then if you want actual coffee and not mud.”

“That’s kind of you to offer,” Keith said with a smile, and apparently  _ that  _ was the strangest thing Keith had done thus far. Mrs. Whatshername looked like she was about to call security. “But I remember you mentioned wanting to talk to the planning committee for the Christmas Party. Volunteer your expertise and make sure it’s a good one, right? Why don’t you take the time to do that instead?” 

“Are you sure?” Lance eyed the mug in Keith’s hands. It’d been the last of the coffee from whoever made it this morning and Lance was 99% sure it was mostly grounds and water. Old Keith wouldn’t have even thought twice about making him get the coffee. Even as Lance thought it, he wasn’t sure it was true. Keith was gruff in the morning, but he always seemed to care about Lance, even if Lance hadn’t noticed before. 

“Trust me, you’re doing us all a favor.” Keith gave an easy shrug. He was clearly far more relaxed than he’d been since...well, since ever. Even in college, he’d always been wound tight as a spring. “I’ll be fine. Go find Pritha in Marketing, I think she’s in charge.”

Lance bit his lip, looking over the schedule. It was true that Keith didn’t really need him till the afternoon. “Okay, but don’t be late for your appointment. I don’t care that it’s with Atlas; be on time.” He stood, grabbing a notepad. “And the notes are on your desk. And your headache meds are there too. Take one before you go. Oh, and-”

Keith held up a hand, chuckling. “I’ll be fine on my own for a little while, Mr. Fuentes. I’m a big boy.” 

“You’re right.” Lance shot Keith a little smirk. “Okay, I’ll bring you lunch later.” He snapped his laptop shut and turned to find Pritha.

❄️❄️❄️

Even with the headache medicine, Keith was in a foul mood by the time he was done with Atlas. Four hours of debate finally came to an end when Keith had taken a gutsy risk and offered an ultimatum that might have cost them one of their biggest partners. It had paid off, but he wouldn’t always be so lucky. He was going to get another earful from Kolivan for his impulsiveness sometime soon - as soon as his boss heard about it, most likely. 

Without Lance there to chase people off, the best Keith could do was to shut his office door and hope everyone took the hint. He had a ton of paperwork to go through, but his heart just wasn’t in it. All he wanted was some quiet time with Lance. A hug, a kiss, hell, even just a kind word and a smile. It was all he could think about, and by 4:30, he was grumpy, distracted, positively drowning in reports, and hadn’t eaten since he’d made breakfast at 6:00 am. 

A knock at his door didn't wait before it opened and closed behind Lance. "Sorry, there was an emergency in HR. Then they didn't start the meeting till after lunch and-" At the look on Keith's face, Lance skipped to the end. "The Yellow Lion had a giant line, but I got you the special before it ran out." Lance lifted the paper takeout bag. 

Keith waved him over, focus still on the paperwork in front of him. 

"You can do that later. C'mon." He put the bag down on Keith's desk. "Time to take a break." 

That gave Keith the opportunity to stand and pull Lance in by his borrowed tie for a long, not-terribly-finessed-but-definitely-needed kiss. “I missed you,” he admitted, voice thick with exhaustion. 

Lance didn't reply; instead he kissed Keith back. He never really liked business wear, but he could definitely get used to being controlled by his tie. After a moment he broke the kiss. "Your food is getting cold.”

Keith was decidedly less interested in the food than in continuing the kiss, but Lance had gone to the trouble to get it, so he decided to honor the effort. With one last chaste peck, he let the tie go and flopped back into his chair. “Have you eaten?”

"I'll pick up something when I get off." Lance shook his head as he opened the bag. He placed the to-go container in front of Keith with a bundle of plastic silverware.

“Absolutely not.” Keith gestured for him to take one of the opposing chairs. “There’s always at least three servings in these things and I am  _ not  _ going to sit here and eat when you haven’t and  _ you  _ went to get it.” Fixing Lance with a serious look, he pointedly held out a napkin. “Don’t do that, please. Don’t ignore yourself or your needs to take care of me. Okay?” 

Lance frowned, but took the napkin. “I thought we were supposed to keep things professional, boss.”

“I would have said that to you a day ago, a week ago. The first day you got here. I just didn’t realize you probably pulled shit like this all the time.” His expression softened. “I already told you I care about you. Think about how you’d feel in my place.” 

“Ah, you really don’t know how hard I work. Maybe now that you’re paying more attention you’ll be more, well, attentive.” Lance booped him on the nose and followed it with a kiss.

Keith...sort of crumbled under that; a full grown man in the chair of a corporate Vice President, and he suddenly looked like a child whose parent said they ‘weren't angry, just disappointed.’ “I’m sorry, Lance. I thought I did, but...I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, I’m teasing you.” Lance took a quick glance at the door before settling himself into Keith’s lap. “Even if you didn’t realize, I know you always appreciated it. And you were working twice as hard, so it was the least I could do, like now.”

Grateful for the sudden closeness, Keith enveloped Lance and squeezed, burying his face miserably into Lance’s chest. “I don’t even remember the last time it happened, but if I have to read that report one more time, I swear I will cry.” 

“Then don’t read it; eat.” Lance shifted so he was sitting across Keith’s lap and grabbed the container, opening it up. He pinched a piece of juicy meat between his fingers and held it up for Keith.

One thick eyebrow raised as he leveled a look at Lance. “You’re really gonna go this far, huh?” 

“Well, if you don’t want it.” He plopped it into his mouth, sucking the juice off his fingers. 

“Oh, I didn’t say that.” Keith wrapped a gentle hand around Lance’s wrist and pulled it towards his own mouth. He lowered his lashes as he pulled Lance’s fingers past his lips and sucked them, all hot breath and wet sounds, tongue wrapping around and stroking before lapping in between. 

“You’re supposed to be eating the food, not me,” Lance’s voice came out husky and low.

“Yeah well,” Keith hummed as he trailed wet kisses down to Lance’s palm. “Then don’t come in with something so delicious and act surprised when I get hungry.” 

Lance’s tongue flicked out to taste the air, mimicking Keith’s against his own lips. “Maybe with all the work you have today, you should take some of it home. You could finish your meal there.”

“That sounds.” Kiss. “Like an excellent.” Kiss. “Idea.” Keith smiled innocently up at him. “How long until the day’s done?” 

"You're fresh out of meetings, so, whenever you want. If you want my professional opinion, today should've been spent in bed." 

Chuckling, Keith gently maneuvered Lance to sit on his desk instead so that he could stand and stretch. “We’ll just VC Atlas from the bedroom next time. Maybe it’ll make them easier to deal with.” He glanced at his watch and grimaced. “I’m not sure when I’ll be done to be honest with you. I’ve barely gotten to go over these reports, and they need to be done by Monday. If you don’t want to wait, I can get Blaytz to drive you back.” Keith paused and glanced up. “Uh. Unless. You didn’t mean - I mean, if you don’t want - or we could go to your -"

Lance shut him up with a kiss. "Your place is fine. I don't have a cat to worry about." He picked up the file and flipped through it, cringing. "If I leave this to you I'll be waiting all night. Why don't I help you, then you can give me my overtime bonus." 

“You know that has to go through HR before I can...oh.” Keith colored a little at the implication he’d missed. “Uh, right. Eat and review and I’ll order whatever you want for dinner. Deal?” 

“Babe, this is basically dinner. It’s almost five.”

Keith’s head shot up, hair falling messily into dark eyes gone wide in surprise. Another few seconds of shock gave way to a shy little grin. “What was that?” 

Lance rolled his eyes. Keith was always so absorbed in work that he wasn't surprised he didn't know what time it was. “It’s almost five. I’m supposed to be off in a few minutes. So, unless you want to eat at like, ten, there’s no point in having dinner.”

“No, no.” The smile was growing. “The other bit.” 

Lance scrunched his nose as he thought back. "Babe?" 

Nodding set more of Keith’s unruly hair free from its ponytail. “Yes. That.” 

"What about it?" Lance hid his face in his shoulder, not looking at Keith. 

Apparently that wouldn’t do, since Keith closed the distance between them and lifted Lance’s chin, swooping in for a sweet peck on his cheek. “I just thought I’d like to hear it again.” 

"You're such a sap." Lance wrapped his legs around Keith, locking him close. "Aren't you, babe?" 

“Nnn,” Keith said in response, nuzzling at the spot behind Lance’s ear. 

“You know,” Lance said, giving Keith more access to his neck, “this desk goes all the way to the floor. Even if someone walked in they wouldn’t be able to see if your assistant might be sucking you off while you worked. You’ll be so much more relaxed and clear headed after you come; you’ll finish that report in no time.”

“Ah, fuck,” Keith cursed, translating it to a nip at the tender skin of Lance’s neck. “You can’t just say shit like that, I’m already doing a terrible job of staying professional.”

Lance snuck a hand between them, palming Keith’s growing bulge. “Why not boss me around then?”

“You didn’t get enough of that last night?” Keith tried not to whimper and jerk his hips forward, but he failed miserably at both. “All that sass and fire, who knew you were gonna be such a good little slut for me, hmm?” He softened the words, made sure Lance knew how much he loved it, by gripping his hips and bringing them flush together with a smirk. 

“My job is to please you.” Lance steadied himself on the desk. Keith did such things to his brain every time he touched him, it made it hard to think. Using the desk as leverage he rubbed his erection against Keith’s, head falling back. “I want to do a good job.”

“Seems like your intentions aren’t purely altruistic there, are they, beautiful?” Keith’s fingers dug into his hips and he started grinding them together, harder and more insistent. 

Every time Keith called him beautiful, it sounded so absolute. It was almost as if by saying it, Keith made it true. Lance gasped and his face warmed. The warmth blossomed out and tingled over his skin until he felt like he was overheating. “Please. I want you in my mouth.” 

Keith chuckled in his ear, all dark and raspy. “See? So eager for me. You think you can do a good job quickly? Please me the way I need it before anyone catches us?” 

“Have I ever let you down?” Lance swiveled so he could run his teeth across Keith’s neck, just scratching the skin. He licked the same spot before pushing Keith away and down into his leather chair. It creaked under his weight.

Keith chuckled, spreading his legs wide. “That you have not.” 

With nimble fingers, Lance had Keith’s belt open, his pants unbuttoned and unzipped, and his cock out on full, weeping display. “Thank you for treating me to dinner,” he said to the dripping head, breath and lips brushing over it.

“You don’t need to thank me.” Keith licked his lips and swallowed, eyes locked on Lance. 

Fisting the shaft, Lance took as much of Keith in his mouth as he could, almost making himself gag. He swallowed and tried again. This time he was able to control his reflex. He sucked and licked and hummed as he deepthroated Keith’s thick cock. Memories of last night and being filled made Lance rock back on the ghost of Keith. 

Keith was practically biting through his lips in an effort to keep quiet. He was so focused on that, he didn’t realize he’d started to thrust shallowly into Lance’s mouth, using it to chase his own end. 

Lance reached back, pulling his pants down far enough that he could slip a finger into his hole. The whole time he kept Keith’s cock pressed to the back of his throat. Once his pants were situated he used one hand to massage himself and the other to massage Keith’s shaft.

There was a knock on the door. 

“Mr. Kogane?” 

Keith froze and looked down at Lance, terror-stricken. “Uhhhh...yes?”

“It’s Pritha Dutia, from Human Resources. May I speak with you?” 

Lance let Keith fall from his mouth as he smirked up. He pulled Keith’s chair so that his lap was squarely under the desk along with himself. “Good luck,” he whispered and swallowed Keith again.

“Y-Yes, come in.” 

She smiled as she entered, arms full of folders. “I won’t be long. Mr. Kolivan just wanted your approval on the plans for the party.”

Lance did something with his tongue that made Keith jolt, and he did his best to disguise it as a casual lean. “I’m sure whatever you and Lance came up with is fine. I trust his judgement.” 

Sort of. Keith tried to kick Lance off with a nudge of his foot. 

Lance retaliated by pushing Keith all the way to the back of his throat and down. He mouthed at the base of soft curls, squeezing his eyes shut to keep from gagging. 

Pritha seemed not to notice. She was handing over a packet of folders cheerfully. 

“Oh Lance was so much help! I would have had no idea what to do about the venue without him.” She flipped one folder open and pushed it towards Keith. “Problem is, we need your approval for the increased budget. Lance seemed to think you would be amenable to whatever he proposed.” 

“Oh, did he,” Keith grumbled, knuckles going white on the chair handles. 

“Mmhmm! So you want to take a look at these numbers and let me know?”

“Yep!” Keith squeaked as Lance constricted his throat. “Yeah, absolutely, sounds like a plan! 

Pritha looked at him, lifting an eyebrow. “Uh...great! I’ll get them Monday?”

“Monday is the  _ best time  _ to get them yes.” Keith was babbling, getting desperate, because he could feel himself getting dangerously close. Oh Christ, he was going to shoot his load down his assistant’s throat while the party planner from HR stood there and watched. 

Keith’s cock pulsed and twitched in Lance’s mouth. He grabbed the base and squeezed, cutting off any orgasm. Pulling off slightly, Lance mouthed at the sensitive head, diving his tongue into the slit.

“Oookay then,” Pritha said cautiously, and Christ, Keith was never going to hear the end of this. “Have a nice weekend.” 

“You t- _ ooh _ ,” Keith bit off the moan and held his breath until the door shut, and then he didn’t even have the time to scold or be embarrassed, he just needed to come right the fuck  _ now _ .

“Lance, let go,” he pleaded urgently, “please, please, I need to - please -”

Lance slammed Keith to the back of his throat, swallowing before he even let go, working the head with his muscles.

“Fuck - fuck, Lance, that’s it -  _ fuck!”  _ With a groan that was louder than it probably should have been, Keith shuddered and came in hard spurts, fisting his hand in Lance’s hair to hold him in place. His entire body shook, and he felt the bliss of release spreading through his veins in a warm, exhausting buzz. 

Lance swallowed every last drop, working them out with his tongue. Once Keith was sucked dry, Lance tucked him back in and carefully zipped him up before pushing the chair back. He rested his head in Keith's lap and licked his lips.

Still twitching and breathing hard, Keith looked down at his lap and stroked a hand through Lance’s hair, brushing it back so he could get a perfect look at those devastating eyes. He shook his head and laughed lightly. “You are a piece of work, aren’t you?” 

"I try." Lance leaned into Keith's hand, practically purring. "Are you-- I should've asked before I did that. Was it okay?" 

“Come here,” Keith commanded, patting his lap and holding out his arms. 

Lance crawled into Keith's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. Too worried he'd overstepped his bounds, he couldn’t meet Keith's eyes. Instead, he focused on his mouth. 

Both of Keith’s hands reached out to cradle Lance’s face and he pulled him close, pressing their lips together and suffusing the kiss with all the warmth and affection still tingling in his blood. Tilting his head, he fit them together more securely and deepened the kiss, stroking his thumbs over sharp cheekbones and constellations of freckles until both of them needed air. Even then, he didn’t want to go far, so he bumped their foreheads together and nudged Lance’s nose with his own. 

“More than okay.” The corner of his lips quirked in a smile. “You’re...pretty amazing. And I don’t just mean, you know, this kinda stuff.” 

Lance ate the praise up, enjoying how much he'd destroyed Keith with his mouth. Keith was a complete 180 from before, all relaxed muscles and content smile. Lance should probably do this for him more often. "You're pretty amazing, too." He stole a kiss and then another and then one more. 

Together they were able to finish most of the work. It was so late, though, Keith insisted that Lance stay at his place even if they didn't do anything bedroom-y. The car ride was quiet as Keith finished the last of his work with Lance mostly playing with his hair or massaging his neck now and then. 

Once he had Lance alone in his room, though, he made sure to pay him back and more for the day. 

The rest of their week played out in much the same way, Keith taking more breaks than he ever had to make sure Lance knew just how much he drove Keith mad. In turn, Lance made sure that Keith didn't overwork himself. He dubbed their little sessions “stress relief” and Keith was definitely feeling less stressed. 

There had been a few other close calls but nothing that couldn't be played off believably. 

❄️❄️❄️

Friday morning, they were all called in to the biggest conference room by Kolivan, who insisted on his own people hand-wrapping the presents the company donated to the local homeless shelter. Keith had always hated this part; he was absolute shit at wrapping, and he felt like whichever little kid got his presents was going to wonder why Santa didn’t like them nearly as much as the others. Lance, of course, was ace at present-wrapping, and took it upon himself to teach Keith, which Keith stubbornly declined in favor of attempting to learn by example. While, you know, not letting Lance know that he was looking. 

“So Lance,” Pritha chirped from next to him as she sliced off another square of indiscriminate snowman paper. “Have you finished shopping for your Secret Santa?” 

“Of course.” Lance winked. “I got the best present ever. They’re going to love it. No generic mug for my giftee.”

Keith cut his thumb on the tape dispenser. Sucking it into his mouth quickly, he glanced at Lance from the side. Shit, that was right -  _ Lance  _ was his Secret Santa. Suddenly that mattered a lot more than it had a few weeks prior when they were shopping at the Christmas Market. Fuck, and he really had gotten a generic calendar or - or something, he couldn’t even remember. 

“Oh?” Keith tried for innocence, though the effect was ruined somewhat by the thumb in his mouth. “How’d you figure out what they like?” 

Lance looked at him like he’d grown another head. “Because I know them?” Heat blossomed on his cheeks as he realized how casual he’d just been. “I mean, I know practically everyone here, so it’s not hard to know what my giftee would want.”

Keith stared. He had no right to be jealous. No right. But still. 

“And you’re...close?”

This time he was probably as red as the wrapping paper. “We’re friends, I’m sure.”

Pritha looked between them, one eyebrow raised. “Uh...what about you, Mr. Kogane? How is shopping going?”

“Keith,” Keith said. 

“I’m sorry?”

“You can call me Keith, it’s fine.” He frowned down at the present in front of him, one half-inch of paper short of being covered completely. Now he had to decide if he should just cut another strip and slap it on or start all over. 

Lance leaned over to look at Keith’s handiwork. “Try turning the box sideways, you’ll have more paper to work with.”

“I...I don’t really know what to get them,” Keith admitted, looking askance at Lance’s freckles and bright eyes. “They, uh. They have...a lot. To work with. I mean. Uh.”

“How well do you know them?” Lance tried to ask casually. 

Keith shrugged, trying to follow Lance’s advice. Annoyingly, of course, it worked. He began taping. “...For me? Pretty well, I think. But also - not well at all? I don’t know.” He tore the end of the paper off by trying to reposition the tape. “Fuck.”

Pritha’s eyes widened. 

“I mean,” stammered Keith. 

“Pirtha! How’s your shopping going? I bet you’re already done.”

“Of course I am.” She flashed a cheeky smile at Lance. “Haven’t we covered this already in our planning session? Nothing waits until the last minute. I had mine the day after.” 

“I knew it. Whoever’s getting your gift is lucky. I hope it’s me.” Lance winked and put his perfectly wrapped package aside. 

Keith turned to him and frowned, scanning his face and hoping very much he wasn’t pouting. 

_ What? _ Lance mouthed. Keith was definitely overworked. He’d have to do something about that once they- once  _ he _ went to  _ Keith’s _ .

_ You winked!  _ Keith mouthed back, frown deepening. 

Lance shrugged. There was no way to talk about that  _ here. _ “We still on for Lunch?”

Pritha’s smile was confused if sincere. “You two...get lunch together?” 

"Sometimes. Other times I bring him something. Why?" Lance quirked an eyebrow at her. 

“No, no - it’s just, I’d heard that Mr. Kogane never joined anyone since he always, um, worked through...lunch…” She trailed off as she realized what she’d said, and turned wide eyes to Keith. “I’m so sorry, office gossip, I shouldn’t have-“

“It’s fine.” Keith tried for a smile, even if it came out grim. “Gossip’s gotta start somewhere, right?” He stood and made a show of checking his watch. “I’m going to be late to a. Thing. Enjoy the rest of your. This.” Waving his hand at the table to indicate ‘all this bullshit,’ Keith grabbed his blazer from the back of the chair and went to go hunt down a cup of the engine fuel they called coffee. 

Lance shared a concerned look with Pritha. "I'm going to make sure he doesn't try and fire someone." He excused himself and ran after Keith. 

With exactly zero effort, Lance located him in the one spot he was guaranteed to be: the breakroom, having conflicted emotions about coffee. Keith was frowning, which was not in any way unusual, but this time it was not at the coffee itself but rather the little disposable travel cups patterned with snowmen. 

“Mind if I get a cup?” Lance asked, closing the break room door behind him.

Keith whirled around, peering at Lance suspiciously. “You don’t even like coffee much when it’s good.” 

“Sure I do, when you make it.” Lance hopped up on the counter taking one of the snowmen cups and poured the corporate coffee to the brim. He swung his legs as he replaced the pot on the burner. 

Raising an eyebrow at Lance, Keith took a bracing swig and made a face. “There a reason you followed me? Can I help you with something?” 

“You left pretty fast. Everything okay?” Lance played with his cup, scratching the fuzzy coating with his nail to make little doodles.

“S’fine.” Keith drained his cup in two more gulps, ignoring the way it scalded his throat. “You should get back.”

Lance took a sip of his cup and grimaced. He immediately poured the whole thing down the sink he was sitting next to. “How do you drink this shit?” 

“Desperation,” Keith answered honestly as he chucked his cup into the recycle bin. 

“I’m not going back ‘til you tell me what’s wrong.” He ducked his head, tracing the snowman’s hat with his finger. “Are you mad at me?” his voice was soft and hard to hear over the rumble of the fridge. 

Keith turned around, irritated and ready to run his mouth about it, but the look on Lance’s face made him feel like he was dragging a puppy to the pound. Deflating, he rubbed at the back of his neck. “No. I’m not mad. Just...look, it’s dumb, alright?”

“It feels like you’re mad at me, so at least try to explain.”

“I just...got jealous. It’s so  _ easy  _ for you, you know? Talking to people. Being liked. Of course you know how to pick a present for someone here, even if you’ve only been around a few weeks. I’ve been here for years and I don’t even know everyone’s names!” 

“I’m outside your office and I have to deal with everyone that comes to your door, so of course I’ve gotten to know everyone. I’m not behind closed doors and people have no choice but to go through me.” Lance hopped down, throwing his cup away. “I’m sorry I winked at Pritha. I didn’t even realize I did it. I’ll try not to wink at anyone, okay? I like  _ you _ , not the HR lady  _ with two kids and a husband _ .”

Keith glowered at the bowl of complimentary dessert mints that had been there for as long as he had. “So what the hell do you see in the kind of guy who can’t wrap for shit, can’t pick a Christmas present to save his life, and gets murderous if you so much as wink at another person.”

“Uh, I don’t know what the first two things have to do with anything. Just put all my presents in a bag, solved. The last part though, please don’t kill Pritha. And I’ll try not to get anyone else killed with my deadly winks.”

Keith refused to look at him. “Told you it was stupid.”

Lance checked the door; still closed. Satisfied that he’d hear anyone coming in, he leaned down to capture Keith’s lips. It wasn’t long. The fear of being out in the open where anyone would walk in at any time pulled Lance back. “Your feelings are never stupid. Not to me.”

Whining at the tease of a kiss, Keith’s shoulders relaxed, but he did not seem quite at peace just yet. “Why is Christmas so fucking stressful and complicated?”

“Wait.” Lance’s face lit up with realization. “Is that what this is about?” He ran his knuckles down the side of Keith’s face, his fingers trailing down his neck and skipping down buttons to grab his hand. “I’m so stupid for not noticing. I get it. We got together right before the holidays, but we have more things to worry about than Christmas and presents and all that. You don’t have to get me anything. Let’s just concentrate on being together first. We can do Christmas next year.”

Instead of relieved, Keith looked more conflicted than ever. “But you love Christmas. Like, really love it. And I don’t want to disappoint you. More than I probably already have. I’m just  _ bad  _ at this shit, Lance. I don’t - I just don’t get it. Any of it.”

“Well…yeah. But if it’s causing you so much stress, then it’s not worth it. I’d rather keep the relationship than lose you over stress because you couldn’t find the perfect gift.”

Keith shot him a deadpan look. “I stress. It’s what I do.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it.” He pulled Keith into a hug, rubbing his back. “If you want to get me a present for Christmas, then how about a planner. I need a new one for next year.”

Relaxing into it, Keith let out all his air in a huff that tickled against Lance’s neck. “I can just get you one anyway. That’s not Christmasy or whatever the fuck.”

“You’ll figure it out. I’m not mean; I’ll like whatever you get me.” He turned his head so he could look at Keith. “Christmas sex sounds like a great present,” Lance said, their lips brushing as he spoke. He went to continue their previous kiss when the door clicked and squeaked its announcement of someone entering.

Lance jumped back, breaking their hands apart just as a white head of hair entered around the door. 

Lotor scanned knowing eyes over the two of them, relaxing into a smile that was all charm as he helped himself to coffee. “I thought I might find you here, Keith, but I should have known you wouldn’t be alone.” He nodded at Lance in greeting. “Good to see you, Mr. Fuentes.” 

“Lotor.” Lance hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. Of all the people.

“What do you need, Lotor?” Keith asked irritably. 

“Coffee, same as you.” There was awkward silence as Lotor went about leisurely doctoring his coffee with dry creamer and sugar packets. 

“Right. Well. We can shelve this conversation until lunch.” Keith turned and headed for the door, Lance on his heels.

Lotor chuckled, still stirring his coffee as if it required the utmost patience and care. “So social these days. What a change from before. I wonder what’s changed.” It wasn’t a question. 

Keith slammed the door on the way out. 

“One day,” Keith said through gritted teeth as he stalked back to his office, “I’m going to put my fist through his smug fucking face so hard he’ll never see straight again.” 

“That,” Lance added, “would be the best Christmas gift of all.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: Hey look, we edited all the way through, so now we know how many chapters there are! I'm planning on posting two today and two tomorrow, so the whole thing will be up and finished on xmas eve!   
Happy holidays and i hope you enjoy the melodrama coming up :3
> 
> i'm too tired to add something quippy so y'know, twitter n'shit. [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: Normally I ask you up here to follow us on twitter, but this time I'm going to ask you to leave a kudos. It'd be a pretty cool present if we can hit 100 kudos and we're over halfway there so if you're reading this, and this fic has given you any kind of happiness, please leave a little kudos for us. It'd make our entire holiday <3
> 
> Autumn: And for the record, I was NOT in the mountains. I was in the middle of a field. But a special thanks to Sail for picking up my loser slack <3

❄️❄️❄️

Ugh, he had the worst headache. Keith rubbed his temples as he tried to will the thing away. Lance had turned out all his lights and given him pills to take, but it still pounded at the back of his head. 

He startled when a knock rapped at his office door.  _ Owch _ . Before it could happen again, he yanked it open, already glowering. “Keep it down.” 

Kolivan lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll try to be quiet, but I need to talk to you.” When Keith didn’t move, he added, “May I come in?”

He really didn’t need this right now, but there was no way he could say no to Kolivan, headache or not. Keith nodded and stepped aside, straightening up in front of his boss. He took a deep, steadying breath, reminding himself that, much as he’d like to pretend otherwise, he was still at work and had to be professional. 

Kolivan lifted his pressed trousers as he settled into one of Keith’s overstuffed leather chairs. He threw an ankle over his knee and spread one arm across the backrest, taking up as much space as possible. “There’s been quite some interesting talk lately.” 

“Oh yeah?” Keith asked, trying for casual and ending up guarded. 

“Indeed.” The squeak of leather interrupted him. “The kind of talk that I’ve come to ask you about. Along with a few other incidents that have come to my attention.”

That had Keith turning around with ice in his belly. “Alright?”

Kris sat forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looked up with worry lining his face. “You’ve been really distracted recently. You weren't at the top of your game during the last meeting and I was told in great detail how you disappeared during a dinner with Lotor...and your assistant. I know the holidays are a fun time and I want to keep them fun, but I need you at one hundred percent after this. The STAR meeting is coming up and I need my best Keith on the field.”

Kolivan wasn’t wrong, he  _ had  _ been distracted. The harder part was, he hadn’t found it in himself to care. He was happy, and it was so new and rare and effervescent that he was afraid to do anything to endanger that feeling. Focusing on work to the extent that he had before would mean less time for Lance, and Keith didn’t want to give up the few quiet moments they managed to steal here and there. “...I know.” 

“This deal could make you. If this is successful, the board will have no choice but to choose you for CEO. You know how I feel and if it were up to me, you’d already be my replacement. For the future of the company, promise me that I can count on you?” 

The words hit Keith in a place that was still tender. He wasn’t used to others counting on him to succeed. He’d only ever done the work for himself, to prove he could make it, that he could make something of himself. To know that his performance actually mattered outside of himself in a big way...that was still new. New and terrifying. He’d taken this job for the sake of saying that he’d made it, but now that he had, the reality of what it would entail was staggering. 

He thought of Lance, the way he’d looked before he’d woken that morning. Thought of how his eyelids twitched in dreaming and how he sometimes mumbled nonsense when he buried into Keith’s chest in his sleep. How good he smelled, like soap and sun-warmed linen. How sweet he looked when he woke up and smiled. 

How it could be a very long time before he saw that again with any regularity. 

Keith sighed. “I won’t let you down.” 

A proud smile lit up Kolivan’s face. “That’s my boy. I know I can count on you.” He stood up, straightening his pants. “Do enjoy your holiday. We’ll be nose to the grindstone once we’re back.” He squeezed Keith’s shoulder as he walked past to let himself out. “Oh and...send your assistant my well wishes.” The door shut and Keith was alone again.

Alone and torn and wishing like hell there were a few more weeks until Christmas. He flopped over on his desk, letting the cool wood sooth his poor head. Alone was something he was used to, he’d been that way for most of his life. He could do this.

❄️❄️❄️

Keith did try to concentrate more. He really did. And the office blowjobs had slowed down, to his slight disappointment. On the other hand, Lance coming home with him had increased. 

Not only with the extra toothbrush now permanently taking up residence next to his own, though that did do dangerous things to his heart whenever he saw it. There were little things - a sweater thrown over the couch, a half-eaten pack of cookies, Keith’s dirty coffee mugs collected in the sink instead of colonizing the apartment - that made his apartment feel, miraculously, like a home. 

It was one of those nights where Lance was snuggled into his chest, satisfied and drowsy from orgasm, that he'd told Keith about dinner. His family was going tree picking and there'd be traditional Cuban Christmas dinner and it'd mean a lot if Keith came. 

How could he say no to those sleepy blue eyes and soft smile? Which was why he found himself packed in the backseat of a minivan with Lance pressed against one side and a small child who kept tapping his arm to explain something rambling and incoherent now and then to him. 

Lance’s mom drove as she sang Christmas carols that blasted from the crackling speakers. When Lance had invited him, Keith had pretended that he was only going for Lance’s sake but not once in his whole life had he ever picked out a tree. Secretly, he was excited, if not slightly annoyed at the constant tapping from Lance's nephew. 

He didn’t have much of an idea of what qualified a tree to become the family Christmas tree - height or smell or whatever - but Lance told him he’d hear all about it on the car ride over. 

He did not exaggerate. 

As Keith discovered, Lance had not only a young nephew but a niece as well. And they, like their uncle, enjoyed the sound of their own voices. And Christmas. And listening to themselves talk about Christmas. 

Keith learned all about how the branches needed to be strong enough to hold ornaments and fluffy enough to hug- that was Lance’s nephew’s requirement, and that the smell was equal to how good Christmas would be- his niece. Lance, on the other hand, was insistent that all of those qualities were in a Noble fir while his mother insisted that a  _ Douglas _ was tradition. All of these tree facts spun in his head as they pulled up to the nursery. 

The trees were as numerous as the facts he’d just learned. Lance’s nephew immediately ran out to start hugging trees and declaring them yes’s and no’s. Lance made a beeline for the Nobles, dragging him by the hand. 

“It smells like Pinesol.” Keith’s nose twitched. 

“You take that back. It smells like Christmas is finally here.” 

Keith didn’t have time to reply as Lance gasped and pulled him forward. 

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” Lance ran his hand down the fluffy needles in reverence. 

“It’s a tree, Lance.”

“This isn’t any tree.  _ This _ is a  _ Christmas _ tree.” He leaned in to smell it, eyes fluttering shut as he sighed.

Keith couldn’t help but find it cute. Even if he didn’t understand, it was fun to watch Lance enjoy the holiday to its fullest. 

“It’s perfect. The best in the whole lot.”

“You haven’t even looked at any other trees.” 

“_Keith._ There’s no need to look at other trees when the _perfect_ _tree_ is in front of you.” Lance nudged him. “Go on, smell it.”

Keith smelled it. It smelled like tree. 

“Have you ever smelled anything more divine? Plus, Nobles are just cuter and fluffier.”

Keith knew this look. It was the look Lance got whenever his head was full of dreams and he was no longer thinking in reality. He was long gone, living in a Christmas dreamland where apparently, this was his tree. 

“Why don’t we get this one, then?”

Lance shook his head. “Nah.” Flipping around a price tag hanging from one of the branches, he showed Keith. “Nobles are one of the most expensive on the lot. I just like to look, y’know? My mom was right, Douglas firs are tradition. They’re also the cheapest.” He elbowed Keith and nodded to a different section of the lot. “Let’s join the family and see which one they choose.”

They chose well. So far as Keith could tell, anyway. The Douglas fir they settled on was tree-shaped, smelled especially like tree, and best of all, he could reach the top without any special sort of stepstool, which would have been really degrading. Lance’s father evidently was old friends with the guy who owned the tree lot, as well, which meant he did all the heavy lifting and Keith didn’t get pine needles on his coat. All around, he decided, a wholesome winter experience - just as he’d always imagined it would be. 

He wondered if, next year, there would be the chance of doing it again. Maybe with their own tree, him and Lance. They could even spring for the Noble. 

They loaded back into the car and Keith was squished up against Lance and the door this time. There was no time for talking on the way back since the whole family sang carols all the way home. 

The Fuentes household was about thirty minutes outside the city in a cute little suburb that looked exactly like what Keith would expect the suburbs to look like. It was a squat brick house with plenty of lights in the bushes and a big wreath on the door. He smiled at it as they got out of the car. 

It took everyone to get the tree off the car and through the door. Not because it was heavy, but because no one wanted to be left out.

The decorations outside did not prepare him for the festive suckerpunch that was inside. As they all pulled the tree through the door, he was hit with the scent of gingerbread. The living room was small but packed with every trinket that had ever belonged to Christmas. 

A miniature locomotive painted apple red chugged its way above his head on tracks sticking out from the wall. It twisted away to the next room with a  _ choo choo _ . Keith wouldn’t be surprised if the tracks made their way around the whole house. A tiny village sat on a table to his left and to the right were presents of every shape and size piled up and waiting for a tree. 

There were as many lights inside as there were out, maybe more. Everything that could be covered in fake snow and fairy lights was. From the living room, he could see a collection of- what were they called, the little windmills Lance liked...  _ What’s-a-pyramide?  _ Something like that -spinning and whirring along. 

It was cozy, warm, lived in, and it already felt like home. Keith’s heart ached at the sights and smells. Lance had  _ this _ his whole life. No wonder he loved Christmas. Keith was ushered into the kitchen by Yelena as Lance helped his family get the tree in the stand. 

Soon he found himself sitting at a table that  _ had _ to be too small for the family, there was no way this thing could fit all of them. Yelena pressed a mug of hot chocolate overflowing with marshmallows into his palm. Lance’s laughter drifted around the corner, warm and bright.

“There you are. Warm up.” She sat down next to him with her own mug. “I’m so glad you came. You make Lance very happy.”

Keith smiled at his penguin-with-a-scarf mug. “I think it’s the other way around, but I’m glad you think so.” 

“Hmm,” Yelena hummed. “So, you love my son. I’m very glad. Now, I can sleep at night and not worry about his heartbreaking.”

“What?” Keith’s head shot up and his cocoa sloshed. “We only just started seeing each other a few w-"

Yelena waved her hand with a secret smile. “Yes, but. Those who get together at Christmas, they are most happy of all.” 

Derailing that train as fast as he could, Keith offered, “Well, I know how Lance became such a daydreamy romantic now.” That got him a belly laugh that was warm and comforting and damn if this lady wasn’t the mom-est mom Keith had ever envisioned as a child. It made him about feel about as melancholy as it did comfortable. 

A beeping came from the kitchen. 

"You're family now, so-" She stood and gave the top of his head a warm kiss. "Come to me if you need a mom. I'm very good at it." Ruffling his hair, she hurried off to take care of whatever was calling her attention, saying it was done. 

Keith blinked after her, wondering what in the hell Lance had actually told her. Did she know? Was she just being nice? Why was she being nice? Did she feel obligated to feel nice or did she-

"Keith!" Lance came bounding around the corner with a sparkly garland around his neck and tinsel in his hair. It looked like they'd decorated Lance instead of the tree "I found mistletoe." He held up the garland, shaking it. 

“That’s tinsel,” Keith pointed out helpfully. “Mistletoe’s a plant.” 

"Same difference." Lance held it above his head and puckered his lips. His words were squished through them as he spoke, "You hav'ta kiss me, it's the rule." 

Glancing around, Keith looked for anyone else - especially children - and gave Lance a quick peck on the cheek. 

Lance pouted. "I guess that counts." He elbowed Keith. "C'mon, time to trim the tree!" 

“It isn’t trimmed?” Keith looked down at his cocoa. “How about you trim and I’ll watch.” 

"You can try, but you're not going to last long." Lance held out his hand. "The lights are already up, hurry." 

And dammit, Lance was so obnoxiously adorable and cheerful about it that Keith had to take his hand. He allowed himself to be dragged into the too-small-for-this-many-people living room and took in the chaos of shed needles and open boxes of ornaments. 

“Hey.” He tugged Lance back, eyeing the boxes. “Show me your favorite one?”

That was a thing, right? People attached significance to ornaments? 

"Now you've asked for it." Lance booped him on the nose and dragged him the rest of the way. Kneeling down next to one of the boxes, he reverently folded back tissue paper. 

"Bisabuela, er, my great-grandma made these by hand for each of us." Lance handed him a bear holding a red balloon. "This one's mine." 

Accepting it into his palm, Keith was surprised by how heavy it was. “That’s...really cute, actually. And well made. What is it?” 

“Winnie the Pooh?” Lance raised an eyebrow, then schooled his features. “Just a bear I really liked as a kid. Oh! There’s also this one.” He moved to another box and dug for a while. “Here.”

Keith stared down at the tin apple with a cutout school picture of Lance without front teeth. Below his picture it said, ‘Dec 6th, 3rd grade. Mrs. Bunch.’

“Made that one myself.”

Some very strange emotions fluttered through Keith, and his cheeks hurt. Apparently, he was grinning quite a bit. “Probably your best look,” he said lightly. 

"I agree. I rock no front teeth." Lance nodded towards the tree. "Why don't you hang up those two." 

“Those two” were a fish with a Santa hat and a pinecone covered in glitter. Keith looked down at the pinecone for longer than was probably normal. 

"Put them wherever you want. Don't overthink it." Lance said, taking the bear and apple to hang. 

“It’s...nice,” Keith said to the pinecone. “To see it in reality. To know it actually does look like the movies.” 

Lance paused his tree hanging and patted his niece’s head as he stepped closer to Keith. He wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed his cheek. “Do you want that one?”

Keith gave a little shiver at the kiss and looked up at him, dazed. “Huh?” 

“The pinecone. That one can be yours.” Lance held up Keith’s hand that was holding the pinecone and announced. “This one is Keith’s now, he’s going to put it on the tree. No one else touch it.”

“Oh! Put it here, put it here!” The two children jumped, pointing to two different spots on the tree. 

“That’s Keith’s, so he puts it where he wants to,” Yelena said, shushing the children. She nodded at him. “Go on, dear. Hang up your ornament.”

Keith was the Vice President of a multibillion dollar corporation, had negotiated dozens of deals, and somehow this felt like the heaviest decision he’d ever made. He looked at Lance, who gave him an encouraging smile, and tentatively hung the pinecone in an empty spot. 

The niece, Keith should really learn their names, clapped and the nephew pouted that it wasn’t the spot he’d picked. 

“Tio Lance, can I have a pinecone?”

“Yeah Tio, I want a pinecone, too!”

“Sure, sure. One at a time.” Lance reached into a box of other identical glittering pinecones and handed them each one. “This one is for Nadia and this one is for Sylvio. Go hang them up.”

The children whooped and hung theirs right next to Keith’s, not caring about how the tree looked. “Look, Tio Keith! Mine’s next to yours.”

“Mine is closer!”

“Nuh-uh.” The two children continued their fight, but Keith didn’t have time to see who won because Lance stepped in next to him and placed his own pinecone on the same branch as Keith’s.

“Mine’s closest to  _ Tio _ Keith,” he whispered privately in Keith’s ear.

It was...a lot. It was all a lot, but Keith tried to keep himself centered, to focus on not spiraling into overthinking. Instead, he focused on the warmth of Lance’s breath and the yellow candlelight and the - yes okay - very festive smell of the tree and the general feeling of contentment and belonging he’d never experienced before. 

So he smiled back and turned, meeting Lance in a proper kiss, regardless of whether they were all watching. He knew he was blushing, but the bright smile it earned him was worth the embarrassment by far. 

“Caught you under the mistletoe,” he said, jerking his head to the tinsel still hanging on Lance’s neck. 

“I thought it was just tinsel.” Lance threw it around Keith’s neck and dragged him in for another kiss.

“Oooooh, they’re in loooove,” Nadia cooed. 

“Yuck. Adults are icky.” Sylvio covered his eyes with a sparkly snowman ornament.

“These gross adults are going to the other room.” Lance grabbed Keith’s hand and tugged him down the hall. “The tree better be done when we get back.”

“Keep the door open,” Yelena called behind them.

“Mami, I’m twenty seven.”

“Door open,” she said again.

Lance giggled and pulled Keith into his childhood room. They left the door cracked and called it fair. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: Sorry this chapter took a little longer to upload, I had to take my kitty to the vet. don't worry, he's okay! All his tests came back healthy! just needs a special diet <3 He's eating again and that's all i care about <3
> 
> Keith got his first sample of family!! Do you think he likes it? Do you think he wants more????? Find out in the next episode!!!
> 
> If you've already left a kudos and you'd like to make our day a little brighter how about leaving a comment or following on twitter? that'd be pretty awesome of you [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: Hey, no matter what you celebrate, thanks for coming to this silly Hallmark Christmas Movie Fic! I'm really just floored by how much love you've given this <3 We've gotten so many more kudos and all these lovely comments have given us written kudos XD you are the BEST I hope this present of Klancemas warms your holiday season <3   
Prepare yourself for the melodrama, it's here...

❄️❄️❄️

Christmas was right around the corner, which meant that the annual Christmas cocktail party was coming up fast. Kolivan wanted Keith to host and Keith just wanted to stay home with Lance. Stay home for the holidays. That whole concept was new to Keith, but it was true. He wanted to stay home and snuggle by the fire drinking wine as he nuzzled Lance’s neck. Keith sighed, looking down at the report he was working on. 

The upside was that after this, they’d all be on vacation until the new year. He  _ would _ get to spend time with Lance by the fire. As much as he wanted. Well, as long as Lance wasn’t with his family, which had been a lot recently. Most of the time Lance dragged him along to look at lights or play with fake snow. He’d even been dragged back to the Blade ice rink, this time with Lance’s whole family in tow. It was new. It was nice. He  _ wanted _ to keep it. He wanted to keep  _ Lance _ and everyone that came with him.

Keith shoved the report away. This was no good; he wasn’t getting any work done. Pushing away from his desk, he peeked out the strong oak doors. “Hey, Lance. Do you have a moment?”

Lance looked up from his laptop and smiled. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be right in.”

It was only a few moments before Lance walked in, closing the door behind him.

Keith swiveled in his chair and swept his hand to the chair across from him. “This isn’t work related, I just wanted to hear your opinion on something.”

Lance sat back, relaxing. “Shoot. What’s up?”

“What are your goals in life? Where do you see yourself in five years?”

“I thought this wasn’t work related,” Lance said, giggling. “Am I interviewing for my job again?”

“No,” Keith said, blushing. “I just - outside of work, tell me what kind of life you envision for yourself.” 

Lance frowned at him and pulled a leg onto the chair, hugging it. “I guess,” he started, eyes wandering to the ceiling. “I don’t want kids, but maybe a puppy that I’m not allergic to. A better apartment that doesn’t get drafty, at least a place where I can have a real garden… and-” His eyes flicked to Keith’s before returning to the ceiling. “Someone to come home to. That would be nice.” He was red to his ears and his face was buried behind his knee. 

“Just ‘someone to come home to?’ That’s the only qualification?” 

“I mean. Someone I loved and they loved me back. Y’know, my own family.” Lance paused, blinked, and pulled his other leg up to hide behind. “What about you?” 

Keith rubbed at his neck, looking at his desk. “I honestly don’t know. That was kind of why I was asking, to hear from someone who had given it some thought,” he lied. But the truth was, “Getting to the top of a company like Blade has been my only goal, and...I dunno. Forget it.” 

"No. It's okay. Tell me." Lance stood, coming around his desk and hopping upon it. "The things that you care about are things I care about." 

“But that’s the thing - I don’t know what I care about.” Keith looked up at him, eyebrows pinched. “What happens if and when I do get to the top? What next? Why do I even care, besides proving that I could?” 

"Hm. I guess you'll need a new goal. A new reason for living. Maybe a hobby? I could Google you some local meet-up groups; you could take up knitting." 

Keith rolled his eyes. “I was being serious.” 

"There's nothing wrong with knitting. We could do it together." Lance sighed and slipped into Keith's lap. "Work isn't all there is to life and your success can be measured in other ways." 

Wrapping his arms around Lance, Keith let his forehead rest on Lance’s chest. “Yeah? Like what.” 

"Like in friends and family and Red's cuddles. It can be measured by long nights by the fire and warm days holding someone's hand." Lance entwined their fingers. "It can be measured in kisses given and kisses received." He leaned in and kissed his way to Keith's mouth, capturing his lips. 

When they broke apart, Keith lifted an eyebrow. “Who made you one of the Wise Men, huh?” 

"All the hours I've had to spend doing your job has grown my brain three times bigger. I'm like the Grinch, but with business and brains instead of Christmas and hearts." 

“Too much Christmas,” Keith complained. “Not enough kissing.” 

Lance gave a warm chuckle before putting Keith to him by his tie. "As you wish." 

❄️❄️❄️

The holiday cocktail party, Keith decided, was going to be the night he told Lance - told him exactly how he felt. 

Keith had a tux made for Lance since he didn’t own anything appropriate for a black tie event. It was a dark blue that matched his eyes and Keith couldn’t wait to see it. He took Lance’s stairs two at a time. Knocking on his door, he fixed his own tux as he waited. 

“Keith,” Lance said as the door opened. “This is too much. How expensive was this?”

Of course Lance was fixed more on the price than on the quality. Keith waved off the comment, too distracted by how good Lance looked to give a rebuttal. 

It fit perfectly. The trousers hugged his slim waist and the jacket stopped right at his hip, making him look even thinner and taller. His hair was slicked back out of his face, but that one strand that always seemed to fly away was sticking out of the side of his head. Keith tucked it behind his ear. “Turn around, let me see it.”

Lance huffed but turned to show him. 

“Gorgeous,” Keith breathed. Lance smiled back at him. 

“You don’t look half-bad yourself. You clean up pretty well.” 

Keith eyed the red tux he’d chosen in an attempt to be a little more festive. He chuckled at that and offered Lance his arm to escort him to the waiting limo. “I try not to make you look bad.”

“Well,” Lance gave him a little grin as he slid into the car. “Side by side like this, we kinda look like Heatmiser and Snowmiser.” 

Keith shut the door for him. Then asked, “Who?”

“It’s okay. You’ll get to watch it at my house later.”

Blaytz drove them to the hotel where the office Christmas party was being held. When he let them out, Lance even got him to smile and say “Happy holidays, Mr. Lance,” which Lance declared to be tremendous progress. He’d been working on getting Blaytz to call him by his first name for over a week.

The whole hotel was decked out for Christmas. In the center of the lobby was the biggest goddamn Christmas tree Keith had ever seen; it had ornaments the size of his head and was dripping in crystal. It had to be 12 feet at least, and the lights strung through it twinkled in random flashes so that the ornaments caught their reflections and amplified the effect. It was definitely dazzling, and even Keith could say he was suitably impressed. 

Smelled pretty good, too. But Lance was right - it just wasn’t the same as the family’s Douglas that he’d helped doctorate. 

If Keith had to choose, he’d pick the mismatched tree full of memories at Lance’s place where their pinecones hung entangled. Past Keith might’ve thought Lance’s family tree was bordering on ugly. If he’d been his old self he might’ve called for a decorator to fix them up a new, modern and stylish tree. Now, faced with the looming magnificence in front of him, it seemed like no tree would ever again compare. 

Once they arrived, they entered staggered so that no one knew they’d come together. To be honest, Keith was getting really sick of hiding their relationship. He knew why it was necessary, but company by-laws or not, he was  _ proud  _ to be with Lance. The way people’s eyes followed him? The way he lit up the room when he entered? That was all Keith’s, and while not as impressive, Keith was Lance’s, too, and dammit, he wanted everyone to know. 

He also wanted them both to stay gainfully employed, however, so staggered entrance it was. They found one another again at the hors d'oeuvres table. 

“D’you see the size of that sushi boat?” Lance asked in awe. “That’s like the Titanic of sushi boats.” 

“One of the first things I learned out of school was that an open bar and a shitton of sashimi will do wonders for keeping people in line.” Keith looked towards it and frowned. “I hope that’s enough.” 

“Enough? Are you kidding? That could feed, like, twelve armies with some leftover!” Lance scoffed and side-eyed him. “You should be more worried about the bar. Just make sure you give everyone plenty of time to get liquored up before you and Lotor have to give speeches. I need at least three glasses of champagne before he’s allowed to open his mouth.” 

“Speech…” Keith repeated vaguely. 

Lance eyed him. “Keith. Don’t tell me you forgo-“

“Fuck,” Keith interrupted. 

That was what found him in the corner five minutes later frantically practicing his lines.

Tugging at his jacket, he tried his introduction again. "Welcome Ladies and gents--" No, that was stupid. "Blade is honored to host this getaway-- _getaway_ ? Party _ .  _ This cocktail party-" Damn Kolivan. 

It was overly formal, unlike their simple summer cocktail party where everyone dressed in sundresses and board shorts. Rather, everyone sparkled in their expensive suits and flowing gowns, mingling in the ballroom on the main floor. The fireplace here put the one in Keith’s apartment to shame, carved on either side with stately-looking wolves. The far end of the room sported a huge window that looked out over the snow covered garden that made the hotel famous. Red roses covered in sparkling white shown through the window as the moon cast its full light down on them. Tearing his eyes away, he tried to concentrate on his words, but it was hard when Lance glittered like a sapphire in the crowd.

His ruby red tux may or may not have matched Lance’s down to the button. It was his subtle way to tell everyone that they were together. He wasn’t sure if Lance noticed, but he hoped that he didn’t disappoint his lover. He had even taken the effort to brush his hair into a neat ponytail, and in an effort to truly appear approachable, he’d opted to wear his glasses. Ordinarily, he never wore them in public, on the basis that he didn’t feel as if the full force of his expression was visible through them - and what was negotiation without a healthy sprinkling of death glaring, right? But. Well. Lance had been on him to diversify his wardrobe and...well. Anyway. His time was nearly up. 

Keith hadn’t practiced at all.

He made his way through the crowd to the fireplace and raised his voice. “Can I have your attention for just a moment?” 

It was a casual question, but as usual, the force of his voice and presence made people freeze. Panic, almost. It was not a comfortable silence, and for the first time...it bothered him. 

His palms felt sweaty. The fire was too hot at his back. He searched for Lance. 

His sunny, befreckled assistant was standing by the Christmas tree, smiling at him. Lance sent him an encouraging nod, and Keith let out a breath. He turned back to his coworkers.

Fuck the notecards. He was going to make Lance proud. 

“I won’t keep you, since I know the highlight of cocktail hour is the cocktails.” Polite chuckling. God he hated this shit. “I just. Um. Wanted to.”

_ Lance. Just talk to Lance _ , he coached himself.

Keith looked back to him, met those blue eyes he was so helpless for, and relaxed. 

“I wanted to personally thank you all for the hard work you’ve put in this year. The last three deals we made were incredible, and very expertly executed. I know we wouldn’t have secured them without all of you rising to the occasion, and that is what makes this company so unique. Every single one of us is as vital to the operation as the next, and I’m so pleased that we are in a position to thank you all with free booze.” More polite chuckling. Lance gave him a thumbs up and he could feel his confidence grow.

“I realize it sounds pretty cliche, but none of our success would be possible without you all, and a night in a hotel - even a really nice hotel like this -” He nodded at the staff. “Isn’t enough to convey my gratitude. Please enjoy yourselves, and congratulate each other on the work you’ve done this year. You all deserve it.” The professional facade cracked a bit as he gave a Lance a smile. “Thank you.”

Without meaning to, Keith sort of slumped down, as if the adrenaline of speaking from the heart had left him exhausted. There was a sort of awkward pause before the room broke into applause. Not the polite sort of obligatory clapping, but actual, enthusiastic applause. Face coloring, Keith nodded at the room at large before shuffling off to the side in search of the nearest open bar. He needed a drink, like,  _ stat _ . 

He watched Lance from the corner of his eye flit from group to group, laughing and chatting away. There didn’t seem to be a person in the room Lance didn’t stop to talk to - well, excluding Keith. To be fair, though, he avoided all the management, Kolivan and Lotor included.

Keith threw back the rest of his drink as Lance moved to, yet again, another group. It might be a long time before Keith got him all to himself.

“That was a good speech,” Lotor said, clinking their glasses together.

In the spirit of maintaining the relaxed atmosphere, Keith returned the gesture. “Still don’t know why you weren’t the one to do it. Certainly more your field than mine.” 

“Hmm,” Lotor hummed as he took a sip of his champagne. “I can’t say I’m exactly thrilled about the prospect of ushering everyone home safely after a night of drinking, but such is Kris’ way.” 

Keith chuckled, and they saluted each other with their glasses. It reminded him of the way things had been in the beginning - when they were both promising new hires, Keith all ambition and fire and Lotor all charm and cleverness. In another life - one where Lotor wasn’t so smarmy - they might have made a functional couple. 

The whiskey he was nursing was good, too. Definitely top shelf. He wondered if everyone was getting the good stuff or if the bartender had explicit instructions. Either way, Keith was feeling mellow and actually pretty relaxed. “Do you even know how to call an Uber?” he goaded. 

Lotor tossed his hair and shrugged. “I think I’m about as adept at technology as you are at public speaking.” 

“Ah, well.” Keith grinned. “Nice knowing you, then.” 

Lotor’s smile was dry. “Indeed.” His eyes traveled behind Keith and he pursed his lips. Keith recognized that as his  _ I’m trying to be professional but oh my god  _ face. Lotor leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “Be subtle about it, obviously, but when you turn around, look by the fireplace. Mr. Fletcher is trying to hit on Acxa again. Friendly wager says it takes less than ten minutes for her to throw her glass in his face.” 

Keith muffled a giggle with a cough. “I say five and then she decks him.” 

“You think she’d risk her job just to pay him back?” Lotor was still close. He smelled good - like the spicy clove-like cologne Keith had briefly, tequila-fallen for back then. 

“Absolutely. Have you met her? She knows if she punched Fletcher, we’d all thank her. Can I look yet?”

“Okay look now - wait, no - okay now.” 

Keith turned a schooled expression towards the fireplace. Acxa was there and did look like she was two seconds from throwing a punch, but that wasn't what caught his eye. Lance was staring with fierce blue eyes at himself and Lotor. They widened and looked away as soon as he realized Keith staring back. 

Acxa  _ did  _ punch Mr. Fletcher and Lotor was elbowing him in the side with a snarky comment. 

The crowd exploded, swarming Acxa and Mr. Fletcher, some trying to help the man up and others trying to casually pat Acxa on the back. Lance ducked away and disappeared in the swarm. 

Since this was Keith’s event, he ran interference - ordering a few of the ladies to take Acxa to the ladies’ room to cool off, and when he went to check on Mr. Fletcher, he simply scowled and waved the hand off, opting to go nurse his wounds in the lobby. Keith would probably have to address it eventually. At the moment, he was secretly just pleased he had won the bet. He sought out Lotor, who was herding the group of women towards the restroom, but not before he caught Keith’s eyes with a knowing wink. 

Suddenly, Keith felt a presence by his elbow, closer than anyone else would dare. Lance was at his side, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cup of something else in the other. He held out the whiskey for Keith. "Your drink is empty." 

“Thanks.” Keith accepted it and downed half of it at once. “I’m going to need all the help I can get to sort this mess out. You okay? I caught you somewhere in that crowd.” 

Lance hummed, eyes flicking to where Lotor disappeared. “I’m fine. This is going to be an HR mess though. What’s the plan?”

“Lotor will handle the women and get Acxa’s side of the story, I imagine. I’ll have the job of talking to Fletcher. This won’t be his first rodeo with HR, though. Two years ago he had a sexual harassment suit filed against him.” Keith shot back the rest of his whiskey and winced. Man, that stuff  _ burned _ . “Of course I’ll hear what he has to say, but I am pretty confident he deserved it. Still have to set out some kind of probationary action for Acxa, but. No one’s losing sleep.” 

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m planning on losing lots of sleep tonight.”

That got Keith’s attention. He looked down at Lance with a raised eyebrow. “Z’that right?” 

Lance sipped his drink with a nod and cringed. “God, I know it’s free but does it have to be nasty?”

Keith leaned over and peered into Lance’s cup. “What are you drinking? Go get the same stuff I have.” 

“I don’t know. I just asked for the strongest stuff they had. I needed the courage to come over here with everyone around.” Lance’s eyes flicked to Lotor’s exit and took another brave swallow, hissing. 

“Whoa.” Keith ran interference and took the cup from Lance’s hand. “You’re my assistant and everyone knows we get along. It’s not suspicious to socialize. Let’s get you something a little less likely to make you puke, huh?” 

“Yeah.” Lance sighed, looking around at the tense party. Everyone seemed to be gossiping in close circles and the holiday cheer was struggling.“I could use some food, too.”

“Okay, give me a second.” 

It was really more like ten minutes and a hasty call via the concierge, coupled with a few thousand dollars on the company card. Keith made his way back to the front, once again doing his favorite thing in the world and calling attention to himself. 

The hushed, concerned murmurs died down so that he could explain that there would be live music arriving shortly, including two dueling pianists for their entertainment, as well as a full spread of food currently underway in the kitchen to compliment the appetizers they had been serving thus far. That seemed to cheer people up and steer them clear of ending the evening by disappearing barely twenty minutes into a disastrous reception. 

Keith did his best not to slump in relief, and was on his way back to Lance when a hand caught his shoulder. 

“Nicely done,” Lotor said, and it seemed like a genuine compliment, despite the slithery tone of voice. “Kris will be impressed. As am I.” 

“Make sure no one gets in a fistfight tonight and you’ll be one up on me.” Keith was already walking when Lotor snagged his wrist and pulled him close once more. 

“Things would be much simpler if we worked together, you and I,” he near-purred. 

Keith’s brows furrowed. “Tried that. Didn’t work. Not trying again. Let me go.” 

"Hey, Keith." Lance wiggled his way through the crowd and pointed his thumb behind him. "There's a problem with the caterer. They're short on prawns and want to talk to you about substitutes." He put his hand on Keith's back and pushed him forward. "Sorry, Lotor. He'll have to schmooze with you later." 

Lotor let go with a frown, his face darkening with every step they took. As Keith was led through the crowd by a firm hand on his back, he swore he saw Lance stick out his tongue behind him. 

“That was smooth,” Keith complimented, and it was only now that he had calmed down and put out most of the fires that he realized he had consumed more whiskey than usual. “Is there really a prawn problem?” 

"Not in the slightest." Lance let go and shrugged. "But, you should probably disappear for a minute or two for it to be believable." 

“Prawn problem o’clock,” Keith said to himself, and then giggled. 

"Oh my God, are you drunk already? You're the worst," Lance said with a breathy laugh. 

“Come on.” Grabbing Lance’s wrist, Keith tugged him through the “Employees Only” door and into the nearest janitorial closet, grinning like a teenager. When they were safely inside, he flipped on the single overhead light to show off their romantic surroundings. “I grabbed something from reception earlier that I wanted to show you.” 

"Is it something that you need to show me in a broom closet?" Lance's hands were already all over him, wriggling their way inside his jacket. 

“Not specifically, but I like to think I’m an opportunist.” Keith reached into his back pocket and fished out the fake plastic mistletoe he’d swiped from a centerpiece, shaking it in front of Lance’s nose with a tipsy grin. “Look, how did this get here, it’s a Christmas miracle.”

"You sneak. Look at you trying to take advantage of your poor, innocent assistant. I might have to call HR." Lance leaned in, tugging Keith by his dress pants.

Keith quite happily fit his hips snugly against Lance. Holding the mistletoe over their heads, he grinned and gave it another little shake. “Pretty sure my innocent assistant is the one who voluntarily got on his knees under my desk.” Flushed cheeks, whiskey breath and all, Keith leaned close and bumped their noses together. “Got on his knees and then kept wiggling his way into my heart.”

The closet was growing warmer by the minute. The temperature seeming to match the verve of Lance’s hands. “I did?” Lance’s lips were so close but he was looking at Keith with wide eyes.

“C’mon,” Keith slurred, kissing a path along Lance’s jawline. “You know that. I told you. M’not with you just for sex and coffee.” 

“That could mean anything. You could also really enjoy my spreadsheets.” Lance’s hands ran up his abdomen and brushed against his nipples.

“I like it when you’re spread on my sheets for sure,” Keith half-sang, then pulled back. He caught one of Lance’s hands and pulled it out, kissing the knuckles of it. “But I mean it. And I’m gonna show you. If you let me.” 

“I can’t wait.”

Keith brought the mistletoe up to tickle Lance’s chin and draw him in. He smiled at the little giggle that elicited but pressed it against Lance’s lips, parting his mouth to breathe his own quiet laugh into Lance. 

Lance closed his eyes and buried his fingers into Keith’s shirt. Heat pressed against Keith’s thigh and he mourned the fact that there wasn’t enough time to take care of that enticing little problem for Lance. 

Lance made a desperate, distressed sound and Keith rubbed his hands up and down Lance’s back soothingly as he broke away. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you soon as we get home. I just wanted to steal you for a - a quick Christmas kiss. You looked so good out there in the firelight I couldn’t help myself.” 

“Shh, I don’t want to talk about  _ out there _ . More mistletoe.” He stole a few more kisses from Keith before their time was up. 

Once Lance was thoroughly flushed and riled up, Keith sent him back to the party. It was cruel to whoever might get in Lance’s way for the rest of the night, but it would pay off double in the evening. Keith waited in the closet, quietly watching the clock for his departure and dreaming about peeling Lance from his tuxedo piece by piece. Unwrapping his Christmas gift, if you will. Keith whiskey-giggled again. 

Once he rejoined the party, however, he found Lance and Lotor hissing at each other in low tones. It was not what he’d been expecting to find, to say the least. 

His protective instinct kicked into overdrive. When he could finally make out what they were saying, it tripled. 

“It will be over for you. You’ll be out of the way and things can resume without your interference.”

“What’s going on here?” Keith asked, head still spinning from whiskey and his seven minutes in heaven.

“Keith, you have to get out of here. I’ll talk to Kolivan. Everything will be okay.” Lance put his hands on Keith’s shoulders to stop him. His blue eyes were wide and frightened and that made Keith’s expression darken. 

“No. You’re seeing this. Everyone is going to see this.” Lotor pulled a small remote from his pocket and clicked a button.

“I told you - I’ll quit. Don’t do this, Lotor.” Lance tried to grab the remote from his hand but Lotor glided away.

"I want more than quitting. You know what you have to do." 

Keith still had no idea what either of them were talking about and the screen that slowly unfurled against the wall still didn’t make any sense. Why would Lance be upset about that? And why did Lotor think this was something everyone should see? 

“Keith, shh,” Lance’s voice said. Keith turned to Lance, whose mouth wasn’t moving. Slowly, so slowly, his brain realized that Lance’s voice was being played over the loudspeakers. Then his own joined it, “It’s fine. No one’s here this late.”

Heads turned and stared at the video that started along with the voice. 

There was Lance, giggling as Keith worked his way down his neck. They were in the break room, snowmen cups in their hands, as Keith tilted his head to work Lance’s mouth open, licking hot cocoa from his lips. Then the video jumped. Keith brushing a hair from Lance’s face before kissing his nose in the hallway. And most damning of all: Lance pushing Keith down onto his desk with his shirt wide open and his face sex-flushed. 

The video jumped, which was a partial relief. If Keith remembered correctly, it hadn’t taken but a few more minutes for Lance to make him come. Faces stopped watching the show and started turning towards their little circle, eyes wide. Keith couldn’t look away no matter how the eyes burned him.

This time, it was Lance sitting cross legged on his desk as he ate take out from the Yellow Lion and Keith pulling him into his lap. A quick slideshow of pictures from the night Keith had taken Lance to the seaside restaurant. Keith pulling him close before helping him into his car. Same night, only now they were exiting at Keith’s apartment, lips locked. More stills of them holding hands and kissing and -

A hiccup at his side finally tore Keith’s eyes away. Lance was crying; his face red. Large tears rolled down his cheeks, darkening his lapel. 

“Stop,” Keith growled. “Turn this off.”

He was interrupted by Lance’s giggle over the speakers as he tugged Keith along. They were hand in hand as Lance pulled him towards the Christmas trees, all of Lance's family in the background. Lance laying on top of Keith on the ice, their faces inches apart. Keith teasing Lance with mistletoe in an employee-only closet from a few minutes ago. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Lance was shaking, fisting the tears away as they fell. "Keith, it's over." He turned to the room. "It's not Keith's fault, it's mine. I-" He looked at Lotor, who nodded. "I seduced him. Blackmailed him into it. I quit and I swear to never speak to Keith again. I'm sorry." 

Lance backed up, shaking his head. "I fucked up; it's over. We're over." And he ran. 

Keith reached out, but the words stuck in his throat. He looked at his own hand, fingers splayed against the receding background of Lance’s blue tux. His chest hurt. The room dimmed. 

Then he turned to Lotor, and all he saw was red. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: Welp everything is awful and xmas is ruined, good thing for Lance there's only 10min left in the movie XD I'll have the next chapter up soon so you won't have to wait that long for the most disgusting fluff either of us have ever written
> 
> If you check out twitter I posted a cursed movie poster for this fic:[Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Autumn: This is, hands down, the most nauseating thing we have ever written. We were both gagging. 
> 
> Sail: I should let you know that we have 3 (4?) books coming out for our Klance Dragon AU, we've written up to book 3. Like literal novel-length books. If you like fantasy and forbidden love and dragons and hidden magic powers and political intrigue and long haired Keith and Lance in glasses, then be sure to follow us so you don't miss it!
> 
> We also have a Southern Keith meets California Lance Tattoo/Flowershop AU in the works with some spicy culture clash and soft moments of getting to know each other that's getting close to completion.
> 
> If you want to know when either of those come out, follow us on AO3 or on Twitter: [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

❄️❄️❄️

“Come on,  _ mijo, _ ” Yelena coaxed her son. “They’re fresh from the oven. Your favorite.” She held a Russian tea cookie temptingly in front of Lance, dusting his pants with powdered sugar. 

Lance turned away with a sigh. "Thanks Mami, maybe later." 

As if this was the most egregious Christmas sin of them all and the true indication of how miserable her baby boy was, Yelena did what she always did when things got truly dire: she brought out the big guns. 

This time, it was Rachel who brought the cookies. She had always been the one to handle Lance, to act as intermediary between the elder three siblings and their loud, rambunctious younger brother. Calm, implacable Rachel, who was having absolutely none of his shit on Christmas. 

“Eat the cookie, Lance,” she commanded, pushing it against his lips. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

Lance let the cookie pass between his lips and as soon as she let go, he let it drop. "It won't taste good anyway. It's wasted on me,” he said with powdered sugar stained lips. 

That was met with an entirely unimpressed smack to the back of his head, leaving a nice peppering of white sugar. 

"Hey!" Lance sat up and glared at her, holding his head. "Why won't you let me sit in my misery? I think I've earned that much."

“Because,” she answered cooly, brushing the powdered sugar from his hair. “I know you’re hurting. We all do. But you’ve dated people way longer than this and never reacted the same way. Hell, you got dumped by that one chick  _ on  _ Christmas, and you were still singing carols by suppertime. So what’s different?” 

Lance shrugged, picking at the soggy, abused cookie. It looked the way he felt. "I dunno. It just  _ is _ different." 

Her brown eyes softened as she kept petting his hair, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone. “You love him, don’t you.” It wasn’t even remotely a question. 

Lance's face crumpled as he nodded. Tears welled up in his eyes and he leaned onto her shoulder. "I fucked up so bad. I shouldn’t have listened to Lotor." 

Her arms were immediately around him, pressing his face into her sweater. “ _ Ay hermanito _ ,” she cooed, “you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re both adults, and it’s a stupid company policy. And listen, we all met Keith and saw those big doe-eyes he was sending you. No way he’d go back to someone who’d blackmail him, even if he wasn’t gone for you.” 

"It's not that simple." Lance buried himself into her soft hair. "He's the VP of the whole company. I couldn't - I  _ won't _ let him give that up for some nobody from Cuba." 

“Okay, first of all,” Rachel held up a finger. “What does being from Cuba have to do with it? No, don’t answer, that was rhetorical. Second - you are  _ not  _ a nobody. You’re kind, funny, caring, hardworking, and obnoxiously selfless. You’re the somebody who gave up his job to protect the somebody he loves from a nobody. That’s pretty freaking admirable if you ask me.” She pulled back enough to look at him, eyes crinkling kindly as she smiled and thumbed the tears from under his eyes. “No bigshot corporate asshole gets to make  _ my  _ little brother feel like crap for no reason.” 

"I lost everything, though, Rae. My dream job, the first person I've ever loved… He hasn't even called or texted  _ once _ ." Lance picked up the cookie and threw it across the room. "The asshole won and I lost. The rest doesn't matter." 

Rachel pursed her lips in a frown and pulled him back in, at a loss for what to say to that. They sat that way for another twenty minutes until their mother called them in for dinner. She kissed the top of his head and patted his shoulder, dragging Lance into the dining room and passing him a tissue to try and do something about his soggy face. 

Everyone was going out of their way to be cheerful, which almost made it worse. His mother kept trying to include him in the conversation, which only drew attention to him. Nadia and Sylvio tried to sneak some of their food onto Lance’s plate. Even Luis, with whom Lance had the least in common, tried to rope his youngest brother into telling an overtired family story or two. In the end, the most they managed to pull from him was a weak and watery smile. 

They had made it to dessert when the doorbell rang. Yelena started to stand but Veronica beat her to it, wiping her mouth on her napkin and pressing her mother back into her seat. She had been gone for no more than a minute when she called back, “Hey, guys? You uh...might wanna come see this.” 

Lance didn't move as his whole family, Christmas pajamas and all, stood and went to see what all the commotion was about. That is until Rachel ran back in, pulling Lance by the elbow. "Hermanito, you  _ gotta _ see this." 

He let himself be dragged to the door. There was nothing else to lose and it didn’t matter what was outside. The faster he played along the faster he could go back to feeling sorry for himself. His whole family stepped aside as he entered giving him a full view through the door. 

In the little circular driveway, all lit up with strings of gold lights, was an enormous white sleigh. It was painted with gold swirls and filigree, string with garland and holly, and at the front, it was tethered to two huge horses. They stamped and blew their breath, shaking their heads behind their Victorian-style blinders and setting the bells on their harnesses jingling. 

A man in a heavy woolen coat stepped down from the back. When he lifted his head and took off his hat, Lance realized it was Keith who was smiling shyly at him from the windswept mess of his black hair. His nose and cheeks were red, and he looked anxious as Lance had ever seen him, but there was no hiding the way he lit up when he said, “Hi. I mean - Merry Christmas. Sorry I’m late.” 

Lance was pushed out the door as the whole family tumbled behind him, mouths open. They pushed him forward as they all stood in their slippers on the concrete. He looked back at his family who all waved him forward, hissing to hurry up and talk to him. 

"Keith," Lance said his name like a prayer. "What are you doing here? And with horses?" His broken heart took a nervous and cautious thump. 

Keith fiddled with the brim of his hat, glancing back at the horses before returning to Lance. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you on Friday since you weren’t in the office - which we’ll come back to - but uh. I was your secret Santa.” His smile became a little nervous. “Um, surprise?” 

"Oh." Lance looked between Keith and the sleigh and back. "You know there's a twenty dollar limit," was all he could think to say. 

“Well,” he hedged, “it’s not like we  _ own  _ them now. Just for a ride.” He faltered before standing a little straighter and holding out his hand. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me?” 

There it was; that same feeling of his broken heart beating against his chest. Lance looked back at his family all piled onto the front porch and gawking open mouthed at the sleigh. 

“Go. Go,” they all insisted.

“It’s so romantic,” swooned Nadia, clasping her hands to her cheek.

Lance looked down at his reindeer flannel pajamas and fuzzy, light-up reindeer slippers whose noses were flashing bright red. Where was a fairy godmother when you needed one? There was no way he’d make it back through the door to sulk if Rachel’s face had anything to say about it. With a sigh, Lance took his hand. “Sure. You didn’t have to do this though, I don’t even work there anymore. That nixes the whole Secret Santa thing.”

“Uh, about that…” Keith shook his head. “Nevermind, it can wait. Let’s go.” He took hold of Lance’s hand and tugged him into the seat, tucking a heated blanket around them both before taking up the reins. He clicked them down and the horses took off at a slow, steady trot. 

Snow lined the road from the night before. Flakes fell here and there, but it wasn’t enough to be called snow. A white Christmas in a way, how perfectly wonderful. Lance fiddled with the blanket. “So…”

Keith glanced at him and back at the road.

“I haven't heard from you in a while.”

The breath Keith let out on a long sigh swirled visibly in front of them. “I guess we ought to get that out of the way first, huh? You never could just let stuff be.” His tone was all fond, as was his soft smile as he turned to look at Lance fully, letting the horses continue on without his direct guidance. 

“Lance,” Keith began. “Your job is safe. You can go back after the New Year holiday.” 

“What?!” Lance sat up, eyes wide. “Keith, but Lotor and...those videos, I-” For the first time he gave Keith his full attention. “How?”

Keith sighed again. “I made a deal. Thing is, you’re actually getting a promotion. You just won’t be  _ my  _ assistant anymore. You’ll be Kolivan’s. His secretary is retiring and I insisted you take her place. It’s a much higher pay grade, too.” 

“You did that...for me?” Lance could feel tears well up in his eyes again. Relief, joy, and excitement spilled over and he threw his arms around Keith. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Holding him tight, Keith breathed in his warmth and smell and nuzzled into his neck. “Yes I did. You didn’t deserve that in any way. What Lotor did, what he made you say...I set everything straight and ensured that no one would say a word or treat you differently. I’m sorry I’ve been quiet. I just had to make sure that was all taken care of before-“ Keith stopped suddenly, biting his lip. 

“Before?” Lance pulled back wiping his eyes on his prancing reindeer sleeve.

“I…” Keith licked his lips. “I quit.” 

“You what? Keith, no.” Lance shook his head as the puzzle pieces fell into place. “The deal. You said there was a deal. Don’t tell me…”

“Lance.” Keith took both of his hands and looked at him seriously. “It was my decision. I’ll have other opportunities and it’s not like I can’t get by for a little while. Being with you made me realize...all the stuff I was working towards? None of it really meant anything. I didn’t have any real reason to keep pushing. But  _ your _ happiness? That did mean something.  _ Does _ mean something. Actually it,” He looked up, eyes wide, earnest, and beseeching. “It means everything.”

Snowflakes caught in Keith’s dark lashes and glistened in his long hair. Lance watched them as he tried to process what Keith was saying. “But you’re VP. You have to beat Lotor and take over the company. If you quit, then Lotor wins. I don’t want that.”

Keith quirked a little smile. “Lotor was fired.” 

“Fired…” A slow smile felt painful after days of crying. He wouldn’t have to see Lotor at work. There was no fear of Lotor taking over the company. But, it also meant Keith would be gone. He shook his head. “I can’t. You have to talk to Kolivan. Get your job back. This is your chance. You’ve been wanting this since before I started working.”

“Because I thought it’s what I was supposed to want. But there’s something else I want more.” Keith quirked a smile. “Any guesses?” 

More than becoming head of Blade? It was all Keith talked about. It was why he woke up in the morning and why he stayed up late. It was why they brought work home and scattered pages on the floor in front of the fireplace as they drank wine. It was Keith’s everything. Besides, well… “Coffee?” Lance tried.

“Cute.” Keith rolled his eyes, but his hold on Lance’s hands tightened. “I want to be that person you talked about. The one you come home to. The one who...who loves you. To have that chance is worth so much more than a couple of letters after my name.” 

Their conversation from days ago came flooding back to Lance. One of the horses whinnied and snuffled. Without Keith’s direction the horses had decided to stop and were stomping idly in the snow. 

_ Love _ . 

It hit Lance, warm and sweet, like a thousand Christmases wrapped into one word. He breathed it out, the cold air crystallizing it into reality between them. “You love me?”

“Yeah.” Keith smiled, quiet and crooked and earnest, with snow all in his hair. “If that’s cool with you.”

Lance snorted. “How are you such a dork when you’re worth millions? It’s more than cool.” He tucked a strand of hair behind Keith’s hair. “You’re the only thing I’ve thought about for days. You’re the only person who can make me feel like the most handsome person in the whole world. I love you, Keith Kogane, ex-VP and jobless loser. I love you.”

Keith blew out his breath and grinned. “Oh good. Because uh, turns out the sleigh isn’t actually your secret Santa present? I got you something else.” 

“Now I’m sure that you didn’t stay in the twenty dollar budget.” Lance giggled, all his stress melting off him and settling in the snow.

“Well, I don’t work there anymore so I don’t have to follow their rules anymore.” Keith reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, and before he could think twice about it, he opened it up for Lance. 

The ring was exquisite - a square diamond bracketed on either side by a sapphire in a snug, tastefully wide setting. Keith looked up at him, biting at his chapped bottom lip. 

“I know - I know it’s sudden, but I’ve never - I mean, I know I’ve never but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what - I  _ know  _ that - fuck,” he breathed out. Breathed in. Let it out and tried again. “Lance?”

“Yes?” he said behind cupped hands. Eyes flicking between the ring and Keith, his head spun. This morning he’d woken up, life in tatters. He’d thought he’d lost everything that mattered to him, and in moments Keith had sewn it back together. Better than that. He’d turned his life rightside up and offered him a new dream, sitting in a box and glinting in the fading winter sun.

“Marry me.” 

“Yes!” Lance threw himself onto Keith, knocking them both over into the sleigh. “Yes, yes yes. A million times.”

“Okay. Okay good.” Keith grinned, wide and incandescent. “Awesome. Cool.” 

“Kiss me,” Lance tried to ask but it came out as a whine. It’d been too long and if he had to wait a second longer, he might think it was all a dream.

Laughing, Keith wrapped his arms around Lance and squeezed him in a quick hug. “Get off me so I can breathe and make sure these guys don’t dart into traffic. Then I’ll kiss you nonstop until New Years.” 

Lance pouted. “Fine.” He crawled off Keith, the heavy blanket pooling around them. Holding out a hand, he helped him off the floor of the sleigh and back into the seat. “How long do we have the horses for?”

“Two more hours.” 

“How long did you think it was going to take you to ask me?” Lance laughed and it felt like spring again. It didn’t matter if it was two hours or five minutes; it was perfect. Any time alone with Keith sounded like magic. “I want to ride like a prince around the city with my future husband.”

Keith reached up to cup Lance’s face and brushed a thumb over his lips, leaning in until their breath mingled. “I like the sound of that. Say it again.” 

“Is ‘babe’ not enough for you anymore,” He asked, bumping their noses together. “future husband?”

“Call me greedy,” Keith murmured, taking Lance’s hand to slip the ring on. “But I’ll never get enough of you.”

The ring on Lance’s finger was cold but he couldn’t care less. All that mattered was that it was from Keith. Lance closed the distance between them as he laced their fingers together. He’d kissed Keith a thousand times, but this kiss felt brand new, like it was their first. Healed heart fluttering and nervous, he closed his eyes as a blush stained his cheeks.

First, there was one small, cold touch. Then another. They broke apart to look up simultaneously at the fat, fluffy flakes of snow that had begun to fall in earnest. 

“A white Christmas,” Keith said, voice soft and so content. “What were the odds?” 

“About the same as me finally finding you.” Lance kissed him again. He swore he could hear carolers singing as the sleigh took off down the lane. 

Two hours later they arrived back in front of the Fuentes household, rosy-nosed and grinning like children. Evidently, a man had come to collect the sleigh at the end of their rental period, and Mrs. Fuentes had insisted he come in for cocoa, which surprised Keith and no one else. The rental guy was not, however, the only surprise guest the two of them happened upon. 

Lance had immediately opened his mouth to tell his mother his good news, but she held a finger up to shush him. 

“You can tell me later” Yelena said as she took their coats with a secret smile. “There’s someone here to see you. In the dining room, go.” 

Keith and Lance exchanged a look. “Us?” Keith asked. “Like, both of us?” 

“Both of you,” she confirmed. 

“I’m still in my reindeer jammies,” Lance bemoaned. “Let me at least throw on pants.”

“No, he’s waited long enough. Both of you; now.” She ushered them into the dining room despite Lance’s complaints. 

There, at Lance’s rickety table, sat the CEO of Blade, Kris Kolivan himself. He was sharing a plate of cookies with Nadia and Sylvio, who were showing him the ones they had decorated, which he complimented profusely. 

“Ah there you are,” he said, smiling at them. “Did you have a good ride?” 

“Uh,” Keith said intelligently. “Yeah. But. Why are you here?” 

“Keith, it’s Christmas. We don’t have to get straight down to business. But, since you insist - I’ve come bearing gifts!”

"Sir, I think I need to apologize-" Lance was cut off.

"Nonsense. Now is this time for cheer." Kolivan waved towards the living room. “There’s something in there for each of you.” 

Keith and Lance looked at each other again. It was Lance who took the lead and shrugged, crossing through the dining room to the living room. 

The first thing that hit him was the smell. 

"My tree. That's it, that's the one I picked at the nursery." Lance rushed forward, walking around the second tree, glittering with lights. It's full branches and deep green needles made the Douglas pale in comparison. comparison. It had been redecorated, and reached all the way to the ceiling. At the very top was a brand new, brilliant gold star. 

Front and center, there was a red envelope with Keith’s name printed on it. He disentangled it from the branches, turning it around to examine the seal before snapping it open. There was no note, but there was something heavy inside, which he tipped into his palm. 

It was rectangular, metal. He flipped it around and his breath caught in his throat. 

“Lance,” he croaked. 

“Mm.” Lance wasn’t paying attention. He was still busy circling his tree, drinking in the air with slack-jawed awe. 

“Lance!” Keith said more firmly. His boyfriend - no, fiancée - finally snapped out of his spell and circled over to him, peering over his shoulder. 

Keith held up the brand new nameplate that read Keith Kogane, CEO. 

They both turned to Kolivan at the same time.

“Mr. Kolivan, Keith just proposed to me and I said yes. We’re in a relationship; that’s against company regulations. Why- How?” Lance couldn’t finish his thought so he just held up his hand with the ring on it.

Kolivan couldn’t answer at first. The room was mobbed by Fuenteses, squealing and crying - especially Yelena, who bodily hoisted Lance an inch off the ground with the force of her hug. As Keith was patted and congratulated by people he hadn’t even met yet, he was still staring at his boss in disbelief. 

“As I was saying,” Kolivan tried again, though he was suppressing a smile. “The great thing about being CEO? You get to change the regulations - and if you ask me, it’s about time they were. Don’t you think, Deidre?” 

As if the house wasn’t full enough, another familiar face passed by the doorway into the kitchen, carrying an enormous browned goose in a roasting pan. She smiled at him warmly. “Yes, dear, I rather do.” 

“ _ Deidre _ ,” Keith whispered, so only Lance could hear. “ _ That _ ’s his secretary’s name.” 

“Noel,” Lance whispered back. “Mrs. Deidre Noel. Seriously? All this time, you didn’t know -” 

“I think it’s time to have a real Christmas  _ and _ engagement party,” Yelena said, clapping her hands together. “For both you and Kris. Oh my, two love birds engaged on Christmas, just like me and Eduardo.” She grabbed her husband and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

Chaos broke out as everyone began talking. The children followed Deidre, jumping and cheering for goose. In all the noise and commotion, Lance turned to Keith and smiled. 

“Congratulations. I guess this means you’re no longer mooching off me.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, nice to stand on my own two feet.” 

“I’m glad I could carry us through the hard times. Do you think this means I’ll get to be your assistant again once you take over?”

“I guess it does.” Keith faltered. “If...you want to. Won’t it be weird now?” He paused, considering. “You know...VP is open now, too.” 

"Vice president of Blade…" Lance said in awe, his eyes focusing on the future. "I mean, I'm already doing most of the work already." 

Keith grinned. “Guess we’re gonna need to get you a nameplate too.” 

Sylvio ran back in with a wiggling box clutched in his arms. “Tio Lance, I got your Secret Santa gift ready for you while you were gone.”

"Sylvio, you treasure." Lance ruffled his hair and took the squirming box from his nephew. He smiled shyly up at Keith. “I guess you should know I was also your Secret Santa. Merry Christmas.” He handed over the striped hatbox with a giant pink bow. The lid bounced up and down and soft whines came from inside it.

Keith accepted it, holding it out in front of him, completely still. 

“What’s in the box, Lance?” He asked carefully. 

The box yipped.

“I think you know.”

Sinking to the ground, Keith carefully sat the box on the ground and lifted the lid. Immediately, a big, fuzzy, puppy head poked its way out, grinning at Keith with bright blue eyes and an eager tongue. It was sporting a hand knitted sweater with a giant K on the back. 

“He has hair instead of fur so I’m not allergic,” Lance said, scratching the puppy’s ears.

If Keith’s eyes were stinging when he held the puppy up, cradling it like a baby while it licked his cheek - well. No one had to know. “I love him,” he said, voice cracking. “I love  _ you _ .” 

"I love you too, cariño." Lance kissed the top of Keith's head. "And _ I _ stayed in the twenty dollar limit. He's a rescue from the shelter." 

Keith and his dog hadn’t stopped staring at each other. “He’s perfect.” He paused. “Red’s gonna hate him.” 

"Hey, I'm the youngest and all my siblings grew to love me. Give her time. He'll grow on her. Our children are going to love each other." 

“Yeah,” Keith said dreamily. Then, “Wait, our who?” 

"Our fur babies." Lance nuzzled his face into the puppy. "If you're going to marry me that means I need to adopt your children." 

“CEO, future husband, and father in one day. That’s a lot of upgrades.” 

"Now Red  _ is _ going to be mad that you weren't her cat dad before." Lance elbowed him. "More like, single dad to co-parenting." 

"Lance, Keith, stop being gross," Rachel said, grin on her face as she peeked around the corner. "Let's eat dinner." 

The family sat down to goose and roast pork, putting more people at one table than Keith had ever seen, even with all his conferences. It was loud, boisterous, messy, and everything he’d hoped it would be like. Watching Lance laugh, play fight with his siblings, stuff as many cookies into his mouth at once as he could - Keith realized Lance had been right about measuring success. He’d done everything he could to climb his way to the top of the world. 

Now, with his future husband smiling at him with Christmas lights in his eyes, Keith knew he’d made it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *credits roll*  
A Convoluted, Shitty Christmas Lesson (or Whatever)
> 
> Staring Lance and Keith
> 
> Lance as the Spirit of Christmas  
Keith as the Good Capitalist 
> 
> Keith and Lance moved in together and Lance now has a whole garden where Harry the Fern lives happily with his sister the hanging ivy. Keith took over Business with Lance (yes, he did get his own nameplate) and together they made Blade into a multinational conglomerate and became Billionaires who are the Good kind that Love Christmas and celebrate it the Right way.
> 
> Lotor as the Bad Capitalist
> 
> Lotor learned his lesson and created a start-up where he's trying to do things the right way. He met a plucky charity organizer who stole his heart and taught him how to not be a thot.
> 
> Kolivan as Santa Claus  
OC Deidre Noel as Ms. Claus
> 
> Kris and Deidre retired to Jamaica where they smoke weed and laze in the sun all day no longer worried about running a company.
> 
> The Red Lion as a fluffy black Himalayan house cat  
Kosmo as a throwback to Lady and the Tramp
> 
> Red and Kosmo became best friends. They like to ride in the baby buggy as Lance pushes them in the park while Keith pretends to hate it.
> 
> And to Tiny Tim, who did _not_ die, Keith was a second father.
> 
> [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


End file.
